All Roads Lead to
by Kelsie R. T
Summary: Supernatural AU. Mary got wind of Azazel's plan and ran away with baby Sammy before Azazel got to them. Azazel did not like to be outsmarted. 22 years later, he finally found a way to get to them; He found the other half of the Winchester family. Can anyone really escape their fate?
1. Chapter 1

**Azazel's visit and the nursery fire were supposed to happen on the night of November 2, 1983.**

* * *

_November 1__st__, 1983_

"Honey, sit down and eat your breakfast," Mary placed the bowl of cereal in front of the fidgeting 4-year-old.

"What is it now?" Mary sighed when the phone on the wall started ringing.

With the squirming infant in one arm, Mary answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Mary Campbell?" an unfamiliar voice answered.

Mary frowned. Nobody called her by her maiden name anymore.

"Who is this calling?"

"Mary? Oh, thank god. Took me so long to find you. I'm Henry, I used to work with your father, Samuel."

"Why are you calling me? I don't hunt anymore," Mary vaguely remembered the name.

"I know what killed your parents, Mary. The demon knows where you are, and it's coming for your son next. He's in danger. Your family is in danger," Henry warned.

Mary swallowed thickly. A demon was coming after her family?

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't, but are you willing to take that chance? I had a demon trapped, and it spilled on its boss. Demon daddy has plans for your boy."

"Demons lie."

"Trust me, this one was not lying. Meet me tonight. I can help you," Henry offered sincerely.

* * *

_November 2__nd__, 1983_

John yawned and stopped the ringing alarm clock beside the bed. He reached out to embrace his lovely wife, and was surprised to find the other half of the bed empty. That was weird. He was usually the first one to be up.

"Mary?" he entered the bathroom. She was not there.

John opened the door to the adjacent room, where Dean was sleeping peacefully. No Mary either.

His next stop was the nursery. John was expecting to find Mary with Sam, but saw neither of them when he entered. Something was missing. Sam's toys and blankets were nowhere to be seen. John checked the wardrobes, and his stomach dropped. Mary and Sam's clothes were emptied out.

What the hell?

After walking around the whole house, John picked up his phone and dialed Mary's number.

"The number you have dialed is not in use."

That was not possible. John paced the living room. Did his wife just leave him? They were having some issues but this? No, Mary would probably have taken both the boys. What if they were kidnapped? But what about their clothes?

"Daddy?" John heard a small voice from behind him.

"Hey buddy. Have you seen mommy?" John stooped down.

Dean shook his head and stared at his frantic father, tears swimming in his huge green eyes.

"It's okay, Dean-o. It's okay. We're going to find your mommy and Sammy," John pulled Dean into a hug.

* * *

_Present_

"Who am I supposed to be again?" Sam asked.

"The guy with the Electrical wiring company, honey. How many times do you have to ask that?" Mary stroked his son's hair.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm just nervous," Sam rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans, "I mean, that's my father and my brother in there."

"Just treat it like any other job. Go into the house and plant the charms. Easy as pie," Mary smiled.

"Easy for you to say. So I'm with the gas company, right?" Sam proceeded to exit the car.

"Electrical wiring, Sam."

* * *

"Dean! Can you get the door please? My hands are full down here!" John bellowed from the kitchen.

"Alright, alright! Geez," Dean dropped the photograph that he was holding onto his bed.

He dashed down the stairs, side-stepping their unpacked belongings which were strewn all over the place. Dean hated relocating. The last time they moved was right after his mother and brother went missing. All he remembered was him tripping over some stray piece of furniture in their new home and breaking his arm.

The pounding on the front door grew louder with each passing second. Dean quickened his pace before whoever it was at the other side knocked the door down. He swung the door wide open, revealing a young man of college age. He was wearing a Hansen's Electrical Wiring Co. polo-tee with worn out jeans. Dean noticed that the kid was staring at him with an intense look on his face.

"Can I help you?" Dean folded his arms across his chest.

"Oh! Um…I'm with the Electrical Wiring Company, and I was called here to check on the wiring in this house," the kid snapped out of his reverie.

"We didn't call anyone," Dean frowned. Did they? Nope. Both of them spent the entire morning unpacking away.

"No, you didn't. Umm…the previous owners. They were the ones who called. They wanted to make sure that the wires are holding up okay. They'll be paying for any necessary repairs," the stranger shrugged.

"Okay," Dean invited him in. As long as they were not the ones who were going to pay for any faulty wires.

"I'd like to check the bedrooms first, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah, sure. This way," Dean led him up the stairs.

* * *

The house was not a big one, but it was a place that could be called a home, a safe harbor. Sam never had a proper home to return to. Both him and Mary were always moving from place to place, evading the demons that had been after them ever since they had left John and Dean. Apparently, Azazel did not like to be outsmarted.

Sam trudged up the steps behind his brother, his heart thudding away madly in his chest. His brother was right there!

"I think the wires run through here," Dean gestured as they entered the first room to their left.

Sam paused when he spotted the small photograph lying atop the bed. Mary kept a copy of that same photograph. It was their family portrait taken in their Lawrence home. His parents were beaming from ear to ear, with Dean on John's lap and Sam on Mary's. Dean leaned against the door frame and watched. Sam tore his eyes away from the photo and started fiddling around in his toolbox.

How was he going to do his job with Dean watching his every move? He had zero knowledge about wiring. Any longer with Dean here, his cover was going to be blown.

"Hey, uh…do you have a wire stripper? I forgot to bring mine," Sam asked.

Sam waited till Dean was out of earshot before he proceeded with knocking a small hole in the wall. When it was big enough, he shoved the bag into the hole. It was a protection charm Mary had put together, that would hide them both from the demons. Mary had done the same for their previous house, and she had called upon another hunter for help with the deed. Sam was the one who volunteered this time round.

* * *

Dean walked into the kitchen, and found his father working under the sink.

"Who was that?" John asked.

"Some kid from the electrical company. The previous owners had called them to check on the wiring," Dean rummaged through the open toolbox by the sink.

"What's wrong with the wiring?"

"I hope nothing is wrong. Aha! Found you," Dean pulled out the wire stripper.

By the time he got back up to his room, the guy was nowhere to be seen.

"Um…hello?"

"I think I'm done here. Everything seems to be in working order," the guy appeared from his father's room while dusting his jeans with his hands.

Dean nodded hesitantly. That was fast. Oh, and not suspicious at all. Had he invited a thief into the house? Well, not like they had anything worth stealing. But there was just something about this guy, something oddly familiar. Dean found himself staring and quickly looked away.

"Right, yeah. That's good. Thanks," Dean extended a hand, which the kid firmly grabbed.

After he closed the door behind the kid, Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID made him groan. He was not even done with unpacking his bedroom yet!

"Hello? Winchester speaking."

"Hey Dean? You're needed, at the county hospital," It was work calling.

"Yeah, okay, I'll be right there," he sighed.

* * *

Sam knew that Dean was getting suspicious, and was glad to be out of the house. He did not want to spend the night in a jail cell, knowing what Dean did for a living.

"So? How did it go?" his mother asked the moment Sam entered the car.

"I didn't end up in handcuffs, so it went well I guess. I hope that they're not going to move their furniture around too much, I sort of overestimated the size of the holes a little. They're great. I didn't see dad but looks like they're doing great," Sam answered.

"Good. They are safe, that's what matters. Speaking of handcuffs, I got something off the police radio while you were in there. A nurse was found murdered in the paediatric ward at the county hospital," Mary said.

"You think there's something to do with the demon?" Sam was having a bad feeling about this.

"Maybe. I checked, and there were some signs of demonic activity here," Mary showed Sam what she found on the laptop.

"If he's here, do you think he knows…," Sam looked back at the house across the street. What if the demon knew where Dean and dad were? Sam did not want to think about what the demons would do to the other half of the Winchester family, in order to get to him and Mary.

* * *

Dean pulled his impala into the hospital's parking lot. Apart from the two patrol cars, everything seemed pretty calm over here. He wondered what he was called into.

Dean had a few theories, but this was definitely not one of them. He looked down on the dead nurse, whose throat and abdomen were slit and left to bleed in the middle of the ward for infant patients. He was relieved that none of the infants were missing though.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered. Who would do that in a room full of babies?

"My sentiments exactly, pal," Max, his colleague said.

"The cameras," Dean pointed to the surveillance camera in the room, "Got anything from there?"

"Nope, we didn't get anything. There were some kind of interference on the tapes, it was weird. There's a witness though. The victim's colleague saw a man. Although she's spooked to hell and she's not making any sense at all," Max pointed to a young nurse at a corner.

"I'm gonna go talk to her," Dean strode across the room to the nurse.

"Hey, I'm Dean. I'm with the police department. What's your name?"

"Kylie," she answered timidly.

"Okay Kylie, did you see what happened?"

"He killed Wendy. I saw it. The man, he…he just appeared out of thin air. I'm not crazy, I swear," Kylie sobbed.

"What? Okay, what else? Did you see his face? Why would he want to kill your colleague?"

"I don't know. One second, he was just there beside Wendy, and the next, she was dead on the ground. Then, he leaned over one of the cribs," Kylie shook her head.

"What was he doing?" Dean questioned.

"I couldn't see. But I did saw his face. I saw his eyes. They were…they were weird."

"Weird how?"

"I swear they were yellow. Like, bright yellow," Kylie had a look of horror on her face, "After that, I blinked and he's gone."

"Huh. Well, thanks for your help, and I'm sorry about your friend," his day just got weirder and weirder.

"Winchester! We got something here," Dean heard one of the uniforms call out.

The uniformed officer pointed to a small heap of yellow powder.

"What is that?" Dean poked a finger into the fine powder at the foot of one of the cribs.

He brought the finger to his nose. Sulfur?

* * *

A small crowd had gathered outside the police tapes, everyone trying to find out what the commotion was about. Oh, he already knew what happened. His superior had wanted him to make sure that all the loose ends have been tied up. He eyed the young nurse, the one who was talking to a detective. Pretty girl. Too bad, but maybe he could have some alone time with her before he did his job.

"Step back. This is a police investigation," a uniformed officer was trying to control the crowd of onlookers.

"Winchester! We got something here," someone shouted.

Winchester? Could it be…

Oh his day just got better and better.

* * *

**Next chapter would be up soon, maybe by next weekend!**

**-Kelsie**


	2. Chapter 2

"Dean is here," Sam announced when he spotted the black impala in the hospital's parking lot. What if the demons were in there?

"We wait here. When he comes out, I want you to tail him and I'll go in and have a look. Before we figure out what is happening here, I'm not letting him out of our sight, alright?" Mary instructed.

"What about dad?" Sam nodded.

"I'll be at the house after I'm done here," Mary assured.

While they waited, they prepared the things that they would need to deal with the demons. Mary handed Sam a bag filled with holy water, rock salt, and weapons. It was not enough to stop a demon, but it would give them time to escape when cornered. That was all they had needed for the past twenty or so years, time to run whenever the demons caught up with them.

At the same time, they had also been searching for the only thing that could kill Azazel once and for all- Samuel Colt's gun. Progress had been slow on that search, until last month. They had finally caught onto a promising lead. Sam wished that they had Colt's gun already, but for now, the rock salt and holy water would have to do.

After an hour of waiting, they finally saw Dean walk out of the hospital. Mary grabbed her own bag of weapons and laid a hand on Sam's cheek before sliding out of the car.

"Call me if anything happens, Sam. Keep your brother safe," Mary reminded before slamming the door shut.

* * *

He followed the young nurse and watched her enter the washroom. He needed to make this quick, now that there was a bigger fish to fry. He stepped inside before the door closed, strode up behind his target and locked her head between his hands. With a twist, the human's neck snapped with a resounding crack. Not his most creative kill, but oh well, bigger fish.

"Hey! What…"a detective busted into the room and gaped at the body on the tiled floor.

"Perfect timing, Detective…Max Wollaston," he snarled as he read off the badge on the detective.

* * *

Dread pooled in Mary's stomach when she saw sulfur in the ward. Definitely a demon. She studied the doctor's notes from the nearest crib, trying to gather more information. The date of birth was exactly six months ago.

"Azazel," Mary dropped the clipboard and turned to an officer, "You said you have a witness? I'd like to talk to her."

"Yeah, she's in the washroom," the officer answered.

Mary thanked him and proceeded down the hallway to the washrooms. A man clipped her shoulder when he strode pass, offering no apologies. She caught a glimpse of his badge. Huh, a detective. She thought that they would have better manners than this.

Alarm bells sounded in her head when she realized that the rude guy had exited from the female washroom. Mary turned around, but the detective was already gone. Pushing the door open, she was greeted by the sight of the two bodies in the middle of the washroom. The stench of sulfur still lingered in the small space.

Mary had no clue about who the male body was, but she was positive that the female body was the witness. Usually, this would be their cue to pack up and leave, but this time was different. She needed to make sure that John and Dean were safe.

"Damn it," Mary cussed as she recalled the detective in the hallway.

* * *

Dean hummed to the song on the radio as he drove. He pondered over the murder at the hospital. Apart from the unreliable statement from the witness, they had absolutely no leads on the case. Which was pretty absurd, to be honest. The murder was committed in broad daylight, in a crowded hospital full of CCTVs. How the murderer had managed to come and go without leaving a trace was beyond him. Someone from the inside? They were going to get hell from their superiors if they did not come up with something soon.

When he made his second lap around the same block, Dean was certain that he was being followed. The nondescript rental had been tailing him from the hospital. Dean noticed that the driver kept at least five cars between them. Not bad, whoever it was, he obviously knew what he was doing.

Why was he being followed anyway? Dean considered his options- to pull over or to shake his stalker.

"Game on, Bitch," Dean smirked as he floored the accelerator.

* * *

Sam checked his phone. Oh crap, it was his mother.

"Sam. How's everything going?"

"I lost him," Sam answered sheepishly.

"You what? Sam! Dean drives an impala! That's as conspicuous as cars get!"

"He's also a cop, mom," Sam defended.

"We have to find your brother. I think Azazel was here, and one of his demons just jumped a detective. They must have known, Sam. We have to get Dean and your dad out of here," Worry coated his mother's voice.

Sam sighed.

Great. Of all the places dad and Dean could have moved to, they had to choose the town that was on Azazel's itinerary. Moreover, Dean just had to be working on a case where Azazel was involved.

"You should go back to the house. Dad may know where Dean is. I'll cruise around, see if I can find him," Sam suggested.

* * *

Dean stopped his car and verified the address he had been given. Yep, this was the place.

He was halfway across the front yard when he got a call.

"Winchester?"It was Max.

"Hey, what is it?" Dean answered.

"Where are you? I got something I need to tell you."

"I'm at the vic's place. Got to start somewhere, right?" Dean knocked on the door.

"Yeah, okay. I'll meet you there," Max grunted before hanging up.

Huh. What must be so important that Max could not wait till he got back to the station?

* * *

"Oh my god," John gasped.

She was the last person on the planet John had expected to see when he answered the door.

"John. Hey."

"Hey? Mary, what…you just…We thought you and Sam were…" John's mind ceased to function for a moment.

"John, look," Mary started.

John held out a hand to stop her, "I just need a minute to process over here."

He could not believe it. Mary was freaking alive, and right in front of him! All these years, he was under the impression that she was dead. That was the only reasonable explanation to the total lack of communication between them. John had given up after years of futile searching. He remembered the time when he had to tell Dean that his mother and brother were never coming home. He remembered how hard Dean had cried, how he had stopped talking altogether and how hard it was to get him to be a normal kid again.

How could Mary have left without so much as a word and then show up at their door twenty years later? What was he supposed to do?

"You…" John choked as his eyes welled up.

Mary just stood and waited at the door, her own eyes overflowing with tears. She looked as beautiful as she did two decades ago, only a little more matured and weathered, just like what John had imagined.

"Why, Mary? Why do you even come back? All these years, you have no idea…"

"John, I know I owe you an explanation…"

"Owe me an explanation? You're kidding," John interrupted. That was a major understatement.

"Listen John, I'm sorry but this is important. There is nothing I can say that…You have to trust me. We need to find Dean now. Do you know where he is?" Mary held his head between her hands.

"Trust you? So that you and Sam can ditch us again when the time comes? Wait, Sam. Is he…" John came to realize that he had not seen his youngest since he was six-months-old. Sam had to be what? Twenty-two now? Oh god. How could Mary have deprived him of his chance to watch his younger son grow up?

"Sam's fine. John please, I'll tell you everything. But we need to find Dean now."

John had no idea what he was supposed to think at the moment, but Mary's urgent tone prompted him to act. He should probably call Dean to make sure that he was alright. Everything else could wait for a few more minutes.

* * *

"Call me if anything else comes to mind," Dean handed her a card before he left.

He made his way towards Max, who was already waiting by his impala.

"Max. What is it?" Dean squinted in the glaring sunlight.

"How'd it go?"

"Nah, her roommate didn't know anything. It's a bust," Dean reached for his vibrating phone.

"Well. Lucky for me, it isn't."

"Yeah? What did you find?" Dean checked the screen of his phone. It was dad.

"I found you, Dean Winchester," Max answered.

Was the man drunk? Dean looked up from his phone, not comprehending what Max was talking about. Dean's eyes met a pair of black ones, instead of the familiar blue orbs.

What the…

* * *

The human's eyes widened and his hand twitched against the holster at his side.

Please, as if a gun could hurt something like him.

"Dean! Run!" the detective he was wearing screamed in his mind.

Oh, shut up!

Winchester took a step back warily, with his eyes still trained on him.

"Uh uh, Winchester. You're not going anywhere," he snarled and swung his fist up against Winchester's head.

Winchester ducked just in time to avoid taking the brunt of the attack, but it was still enough to knock him off balance. He followed up with another punch. This time, it connected solidly with Winchester's temple. He watched with satisfaction as the human was slammed into the black car by the force of the hit before he collapsed onto the ground.

He extracted the buzzing phone from Winchester's limp hand and held it to his ear.

"Dean?"

"Dean can't come to the phone right now," he sneered.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

"Who is this?" John's brow furrowed.

Mary need not hear the other end of John's conversation to know that they were too late. She held her breath and waited as John listened intently, looking more confused by the second.

"Wait what? What are you…"

"Give me the phone," Mary held her hand out.

John obliged, and handed her the phone which was already slick with sweat.

"What do you want?" She asked curtly.

"Ha! The great Mary Winchester finally made her appearance. Seems like I got the right boy all right," the caller guffawed.

"What do you want?" Mary repeated.

"It's not so much as what I want, but what my boss wants. And you know what he wants. Yours and your family's innards on pikes. And Sam Winchester. Azazel got something planned for him."

"Go to hell. Where is Dean?"

"Been there, done that. Oh! By the way, we got to your dear friend Henry last month. Old man's getting rusty, leaving his trails all over the place. I think we're on a winning streak these few months, don't you think?"

Mary felt her fingernails dig into her palm. She was so going to kill this black-eyed son of a bitch. Henry was a good friend, he was like family. He was the reason why her family was still alive at the moment.

"Let's make a deal, shall we? But no kissing, I promise. Just a casual agreement. You and Sam for the cop? I know, unfair trade. But what can I say? I'm allergic to being reasonable," he chuckled.

"What do you want me to do?" Mary had to think fast, and come up with a plan soon.

"Come quick, Mary. You know how we are when we get bored. We start carving and slicing, our usual pastime back in the pit. Looks like old habits die hard," he warned before hanging up.

"No! Damn it!" Mary yelled.

"What? Where's Dean? Is he alright?" John gripped her shoulders, "Mary, tell me!"

* * *

Dean came to with a gasp.

Max. Max had knocked him out. Why…where… An empty warehouse. He fidgeted and found that his movements were restricted by the ropes around his chest. He was bound to a chair, with his hands immobilized behind the chair. What on earth…

"You're up, gorgeous. And I thought that you'd sleep through all the fun parts."

Dean jumped when a woman spoke from behind him. He turned to see who it was, when he felt something cold and sharp resting on the side of his cheek.

"Leave him alone. You know he doesn't like damaged goods." Another voice from behind him. Max.

"Oh come on, I'm bored. And it's not like Azazel needs him anyway. I'm just going to have a little fun, I'll be careful, I promise."

"What is happening? Max?" Dean's head throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, which was picking up speed.

Was it money that they want? Information? What?

"Whatever, Lydia. Just don't kill him," Max ignored his questions.

"Tell me again, why aren't we calling him already?" The woman, Lydia asked while she traced Dean's neck with the sharp blade.

"And let the others take credit for the other three Winchesters? No freaking way. I say we get all four of them, wrap them up with a nice little bow at the top before calling Azazel," Max's voice echoed in the empty warehouse.

Dean yelped when the blade bit into the base of his neck. Three Winchesters? The four of them? What the hell were they talking about?

"Gah!" Dean yelled and struggled when she dug her finger into the cut.

"Mmmm." Lydia licked her blood-coated finger, "I'll give you an eight-point-five. Way better than a lot of humans that I've came across."

It was bad enough to be held hostage, but to be held hostage by a psycho bitch with a knife was a whole lot worse. Experience taught him that crazy people do not listen to reason. Max! He could talk to Max.

"Max, please. What the hell are you doing? Let me go, man," Dean pleaded.

Dean listened to Max's approaching footsteps. When Max came into view, his lips were pulled up into a leer. He leaned towards Dean, until their faces were only inches apart.

"Max's not home at the moment." Dean could feel Max's warm breath on his face as he spoke. It was accompanied by an intense smell which Dean could not quite identify.

Max closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, it was black. No whites, no nothing, just a pair of jet black almonds staring right back at Dean. He froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. Max, or rather, Not-Max pulled away from Dean slowly, his eyes turning back to their original hue.

Dean could not form a coherent thought in his mind for minutes. Son of a bitch. He was seeing things. He was going crazy. Crap! If he was nuts, he was going to lose his job, and they were going to lock him up with people like the psycho bitch standing at his side. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

"Don't worry, Dean. We're not going to hurt you…too much," Not-Max clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder before walking away.

"Besides," Not-Max continued, "I'm sure that your mommy and daddy are coming to your rescue real soon."

Mommy? Okay, what was that about? Things were getting more and more absurd by the minute. Dean felt strangely disconnected from what was happening, as if he was merely a spectator rather than a participant. It must be his brain's way of dealing with the insane amount of madness going on around him. Man, this was some messed-up nightmare.

"Aww…look at him. He doesn't know that mommy and Sammy are still alive and kicking. But don't worry hon, I won't leave you hanging high and dry like they did," Lydia grinned and brought the heavy hilt of her knife down onto his skull.

* * *

"C'mon Dean, where are you?" Sam kept his eyes peeled for the Dean's car as he continued combing the roads in the small town.

Sam sighed in relief when he saw the shiny black car sitting by the side of the road. Sam pulled up behind his brother's impala and got out to survey his surroundings. He was dismayed to find no signs of Dean, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. Ordinary houses and ordinary folks going about their own ordinary lives. As he approached and peered into the impala's interior, a glint from the ground caught his eye. Sam bent down to pick up the bunch of keys beside the car.

Oh god, please don't let these be Dean's. Wishful thinking, of course.

Sam used the impala to pull himself upright, and his fingers brushed against fine powder. It only took him a millisecond to recognize the element.

This was so not good.

Sam answered his phone, "Mom?"

"Listen honey, the demon has Dean. He called."

"What? Oh god. What do we do? I found his car…but it's empty," Sam searched the interior of the impala and was frustrated to find nothing helpful. "Did the demon say where do we find him?"

"He didn't. Sam…" Mary's voice hitched.

No. No way. The demon was not getting Dean, or any of them.

"We'll figure this out, mom. We'll find Dean," Sam stated firmly.

He popped the trunk and it opened with a creak. In there lay a flyer stained in fresh blood, beside it was Dean's badge and ID.

_Warehouses for lease._

"Mom, I think I got something!" Sam exclaimed and recited the address off the paper.

* * *

"Alright. I'll meet you there. Wait for me and don't do anything stupid."

John watched as Mary hung up and moved towards him. Mary needed help. She had begun blabbering about running away from demons and hunting monsters and John was sure that his wife had lost it.

John's mind went back to the man who had answered Dean's phone. It was Max, John recognized his voice. It was him, but it was not him. Something was off. What was happening? His knee bounced up and down in frustration and fear. Any horror flick would have made more sense than his current predicament.

"Where are you going," John stood up as Mary prepared to leave.

"Sam got a lead on Dean's whereabouts. I'm going to meet up with him. You should stay here and wait for us," Mary replied.

"Sam? Just you and Sam? We should call the cops," John suggested.

"They'll just be in the way. Stay here, and we'll come for you as soon as we get Dean. And like I've said before, we'll have to leave town immediately."

"No. I'm coming with you," John disputed.

"It's dangerous, John."

"That's why I'm coming. I'm not going to just sit here and wait for my family to come home," he looked into Mary's eyes, "I still think what you said was nuts but I'm coming with you. And I'm not asking for your permission either."

Mary laid a gentle hand on John's cheek before she leaned in and took John's lips in hers. John inhaled the familiar smell, the smell that he had thought about everyday for the past two decades. He was beyond afraid that he would wake up from this dream, and Mary would be gone again.

"I love you, Mary. I missed you," John said when they pulled away from each other's embrace.

* * *

Sam parked his car a block away from the warehouses and killed the engine. He picked up his binoculars and tried to make out the dark interior of the buildings. Sam noted that the five warehouses advertised on the flyer were next to the harbor, where a few private yachts were anchored. A plausible escape route?

Sam swept the area with his binoculars again when he found nothing. Third time, still nothing. He needed to get closer. Sam checked around him once more before he made his way towards the warehouses stealthily. The tall, single-level warehouses were of the same design. There was one door at the front, one door at the side and one door leading out back to the harbor. Some of the windows were boarded up while the others were mostly clouded with dust and grime.

Sam peeked through one of the windows. It was empty. He went on to the next warehouse. Empty too. The same went for the third and the forth warehouse. Sam was beginning to think that he was being tricked when he heard noises emanating from the last building. He crept towards the building at the end and crouched under one of the broken windows.

"Enough. You're going to kill him before they arrive," Sam heard a man say.

"Relax. It's not as bad as it looks. See, he's still awake," A woman answered.

At least two demons, maybe more.

"Barely, Lydia. Find something else to do okay?" The man retorted.

Sam flinched when he heard a crash and a cry of pain. Dean!

He straightened up a fraction and stole a look through the window, praying that none of the demons were looking his way. There was a man sitting at a desk, with his back facing Sam. A woman joined the man at the desk and snatched the phone he was fiddling with.

"What the hell! I was so close to winning!"

Sam snorted quietly. Demons and phones. What has the world come to?

He turned his attention to the heap on the ground. It was his brother. Both Dean and the chair that he was tied to were lying on their side. Sam cringed when he took in the appearance of his brother. There was blood everywhere.

Rage bubbled in his stomach. Rescuing Dean was not going to be good enough for him. Sam swore that he was going to send the demons back to where they belonged, back in hell.

* * *

Dean's mind was fogged with pain. He had lost count of the number of cuts and blows that had been inflicted on his body. Lydia stood in front of him and appraised her work. She looked like she was having the time of her life. Good for her.

He coughed and gagged, the motion sending a fresh wave of agony over his body. A warm trickle of spit and blood dribbled down his chin.

Huh, look. More blood.

"Enough. You're going to kill him before they arrive."

Who was coming? And why was it so cold in here?

"Relax. It's not as bad as it looks. See, he's still awake," Lydia lifted his chin with her finger and studied his face.

"Barely, Lydia. Find something else to do okay?"

Was he supposed to be glad that Not-Max wanted him alive?

Gah. He hurt.

He was tired too. So tired.

Where was he again? What? He did not remember painting his walls grey.

Grey's disgusting. He liked blue.

Heh. Smurfs.

Maybe he should install a heater in the room too, it was freezing.

"Fine," Lydia muttered under her breath and started to move away from her toy.

She paused to think before she kicked the chair of her captive. It toppled onto the cold, hard cement, bringing Dean down with it and pinning his right arm under it.

Dean shrieked in shock and pain.

He snapped back into reality, and the fierce pain in his arm chased away any hint of exhaustion he was feeling before.

She broke his arm. Crazy bitch broke his freaking arm.

* * *

Sam went back to the car, just in time to see his parents pull up behind his car.

His mother got out quickly and proceeded to the boot of the car, while his father remained seated in the passenger seat, gaping at him through the windshield.

Why was he staring…Right, Sam forgot. Dad had not seen him since he was a baby.

"Sam, some help here," Mary called out.

"I scouted the area, don't worry, I didn't do anything. They are in the warehouse at the far end. I see two of them, there may be more," Sam updated Mary on what he found.

He handed her the layout of the warehouses he had sketched roughly, highlighting the various exits.

"And Dean?" John approached the duo but he stopped in his tracks when he was taken aback by the shotgun that Mary was holding.

"Not good," Sam's tone was grim.

"Hi, dad," Sam smiled sadly. He wished that they did not have to meet under these circumstances.

John did not respond to that, and just continued to stare at his son, tears swimming in his eyes.

"We have to get to work," Mary interrupted them.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked as he loaded his shotgun with the rock salt rounds.

"Honestly? I don't know."

For a second, Sam thought that his mother was joking.

She wasn't.

* * *

**The story will be updated again next weekend!  
Hugs and puppies for everyone who have read! Thanks for reviewing and following!**

**-Kelsie**


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me take a look at the floor plan," John asked.

They could not just barge in there without a plan.

"Yeah, here," Sam placed the paper on the car, in front of John.

John studied the hurriedly-drawn lines. Sam managed to capture all the essential details needed for a mission like this. He had obviously been trained and taught well. Mary too, and John was still not used to seeing her with a loaded shotgun sitting in her hands.

He should have been the one to protect them. Mary should never have to deal with this on her own.

"Maybe we should split up and draw them apart from each other, deal with each demon separately," Sam pointed to the spot where their enemies were situated.

"That's too risky. See, there's a backroom here. There may be more of them hidden in there. We'll be outnumbered if we split up. I say we stay together, close off all but one exit, and flush all of them out. This way we won't be outflanked or cornered," John was glad that marine skills were still sharp, even after years of living in the suburbs.

John looked up at Sam when he did not hear any replies. Sam was looking at him with a look of surprise and admiration. It was the look that Dean would give him when Dean was younger, like John was some kind of superhero.

John was hit with a pang of guilt. Sam grew up without his father by his side. Sure, Mary was an excellent mother, without a doubt. But things are just not the same without a male figure to look up to. John knew how it was like, as his own mother had raised him by herself after his father bailed.

"Yeah. That's right, we should," Sam finally said.

"Yeah John," Mary voiced her agreement and added, "We paint these sigils and devil traps at the doors and windows. When they're trapped, we can go in and get Dean."

John was still not convinced that what Mary told him was true, that demons were real. He would have to see it with his own eyes to believe it.

"And the guns would kill them?" John held up the weapon that Mary handed him.

"It won't, but it will slow them down, buy us a second or two, enough to get out. The rounds are filled with rock salt. Holy water would work too. Here, take this," Mary gave John a bottle of the blessed liquid.

"No."

John and Mary turned their heads when their youngest interrupted.

"You should have seen what they did to Dean, mom. I should send them back to hell. I want to send them back to hell," Sam was livid.

John was pleasantly surprised to find that Sam was so much like him and Dean, always so stubbornly protective over family.

"Okay then. We'll send these jerks back downstairs," Mary nodded.

* * *

_"Angels are watching over you."_

It was what his mother would say, when she put him to sleep at night. Dean still remembered, even if he was no more than four when she died.

"Yeah, I bet my ass they are, mom," Dean muttered under his breath.

He was not a religious man. Dean had seen too much injustice and evil in his line of work. When he was young, his dad used to tell him stories about the war that he had fought in. Dean did not want to believe that there was a higher power, which could stop all these pain and suffering, but had not even bothered to. Good people had died, he had watched his fellow colleagues got killed, while the bad guys got away with it. How could God, if there was one, let these things happen?

But here he was, tied to a chair and covered in his own blood, Dean prayed for someone to come. Not an angel or some divine being. He would settle for just some back-up and an ambulance, or he was going to bleed to death in this dump.

Dean jerked when he heard a loud clang coming from outside the door.

"Go check it out," Not-Max ordered.

With a few quick strides, Lydia opened the door and stepped outside. What she saw made her grin widely. She tried to step away from the door, but she could not, like she was rooted to the spot.

Huh. That was weird.

Someone started reciting in a language that he did not recognize. Sounded like…Latin? Lydia was on the ground, screaming and clawing desperately at the rough surface.

What the hell…

Not-Max was suddenly in front of Dean, holding a metal bowl decorated with carvings in one hand and a bowie knife in another.

"Guess that he'll have to make do with three of them," he shrugged.

"Please, stop. Max. Please. You don't have to do this," Dean cringed at the thought of more slicing.

"Don't worry, this time, it'll be quick."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as Not-Max closed in on him, the sharp edge aiming for Dean's neck. He braced himself for the pain that never came. There was a scuffling sound, a muffled groan, and a resounding crash as the metal bowl hit the ground.

Dean opened his eyes to see his father tackling Not-Max on the ground.

Dad! What the hell was he doing here?

* * *

After they had drawn up the devils trap outside each door and under every window, Mary used her shirt to wipe the chalk off her hands. John and Mary were hunkered down under a broken window, while Sam went around to the front door.

When they heard the din over at where Sam was, the both of them took their cue and stood up. John leaped through the window immediately when he saw what the demon was about to do. He sprinted and wrestled the demon onto the ground. Mary hung back with the shotgun in her hands, ready to cover all of them if more demons showed up.

An ear-piercing scream and the silence that followed indicated that Sam had finished the exorcism. Mary waited for a few seconds, before deciding that no more demons were coming to the party and ran towards John and the other demon. They were still a tangled heap on the ground, while Dean was slumped in the chair with his head hanging limply in front of his chest.

Mary cocked her gun and waited for an opening while John emptied his bottle of holy water down the demon's throat.

"Stay away from my son, you bastard!" John grunted as he continued to pin the demon down.

Sam was at her side in a second, "I got it here mom, go get Dean."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..." Sam began as Mary moved towards her other son.

"Dean? Hey, Dean? Wake up," Mary lifted his head tenderly but got no response in return.

"No, no, no. " Mary hoped that they were not too late, and was more than relieved to find him still breathing.

"Hey, open your eyes for me, Dean."

* * *

"Ergo draco maledicte, et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te..." Sam emptied his own supply of salt and holy water onto the demon.

With a loud roar, the demon poured out of the man's mouth and fled through the broken window, only to be trapped inside one of the devil traps.

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!" Sam finished reciting.

He watched with contention as the black mass glowed red and burned until nothing was left. Sam relaxed fractionally and savored the peaceful silence for a second before his mother's voice brought him back to the present.

"No, John. What are you doing?"

Sam swiveled around to face his parents. Mary snatched John's phone from his hands.

"Not the county hospital. We can't stay here. There may be more demons around," Mary explained while she cut the ropes loose, "We'll bring him to the hospital in the next town. I'll go get the car."

"What about Max and the girl?" John took over the cutting shakily while Mary hurried out of the building.

"They're still alive. They'll be fine. We better hurry," Sam urged.

When all the ropes came loose, Dean was still unresponsive. John caught Dean, slid one arm behind Dean's back and the other beneath his legs. With a grunt, John lifted him from the chair and they made their way outside. While John got Dean into the car, Sam gave the place a quick once over to make sure that they did not leave any traces. He paused when he thought about not leaving anything behind.

"Sam? What are you waiting for?" Mary beckoned.

"I should go back and get Dean's car. I'll be right behind," Sam jingled the bunch of keys he had found earlier.

"Be careful, Sam," Mary gave a curt nod.

* * *

Dean's car was still sitting where Sam had found it. Thank god!

Sam ran his hand across the smooth, waxed top of the car. Sam could see that Dean had taken real good care of it, and he was sure that Dean would not want to leave it behind. After his bag landed onto the backseat with a soft thud, Sam climbed into the driver's seat. Once he turned the key in the ignition, the small space was filled with a Led Zeppelin tune at an uncomfortably loud volume. Classic rock station? Sam remembered that his mother had told him about how that was the only genre that his father ever listened to.

Sam looked around himself. A pair of sunglasses was sitting on the dashboard, atop of a few papers which were branded with the police department's logo. Dean's half-eaten burger and pie lay forgotten on the passenger seat, the dessert already melted into a mush of white and brown. Sam proceeded to look through the contents of the glove compartment. There were tickets for a baseball match next week, a spare gun, more papers, and a photograph of Dean and John in a bar.

Sam's lips curved upwards into a small smile. It was like putting together the bits and pieces of a complicated puzzle which was his brother, a brother that did not have the chance to know. Sam prayed that he would still have the opportunity to know Dean better, know what it would feel like to have a big brother.

"You better be okay, Dean."

* * *

He bent down and picked up the knife, which was covered with Dean Winchester's blood. With precision, he glided the blade through the throats of the two survivors in the warehouse. After which, he cleaned the blade with his coat.

He had to do the dirty jobs himself now? He needed new minions.

Azazel felt movement behind him. Without turning around, he asked, "How'd it go?"

"We found them alright," the man answered, "we took care of the guy."

Azazel sighed. Satelles was a helpful one, too bad he had brains made of mush and made all the wrong choices. Did he think that Azazel would not find out about the little plan of his? At least the female had enough sense to tell him about their stupid plan. If Azazel had not intervened, if he had not given the lady this knife to play with, the Winchesters would have gotten the slip again.

"So what do we do now sir? How do we find the Winchesters?"

"Oh...that's the sweetest part. I don't need to find them. They'll come to me when it's time," Azazel smiled at his own reflection on the cleaned blade.

He slipped the knife, his knife actually, into his coat.

"Now we wait."

* * *

**The Next chapter: The Winchester reunites.  
**

**Intuition struck, and I'm almost done with the next chapter, which will probably be up by tomorrow!  
**

**A little bit of Harry Potter vibe at the end there...ah, it was not intentional at all. But hey, since I'm at it, here's a little hint about what's going to happen later in this story:  
**

**"He does not need ﬁnding. Potter will come to me. I knew his weakness you see, his one great ﬂaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come." -Voldemort (Quoted from ****Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows)**

**-Kelsie**


	5. Chapter 5

What day was it? What time was it already?

Uh…Screw this. He could afford to sleep for a little while more.

Or not. He should probably get up now if he wanted to get to the station on time.

Max would bite his head off for being late again.

Max.

Everything was coming back to him:

The murder at the hospital.

The victim's roommate.

Max standing by the impala.

The gray walls of the warehouse.

The hard and uncomfortable chair.

Lydia.

Knife.

Pain.

Black eyes.

Not Max.

Dad.

Dean's eyes flew open and he gawked at the white ceiling above his head. He was not in the warehouse anymore.

He recognized the smell, he was in a hospital.

"Dean?"

He strained his neck to look at the blurred figure who called his name. After a few blinks, his vision cleared enough to focus on the face of the person beside him.

"Aw crap," Dean droned and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

No, no, no, he was really having a psychotic break.

"Hey, you okay?" his mother placed a hand on his forehead.

He could feel her touch. Did that mean that he was crazier than he thought?

"Dean!" John entered the room with two cups of coffee in his hand. He was also sporting a bruised cheekbone. Where did he get that?

Dean gaped as John passed one of the cups to Mary. He could see her too, so he was not delusional? Which meant that what happened at the warehouse really, for real, happened. Max did clock him on the head, tie him down, and let the Lydia chick torture him with the knife! Except that it was not Max, not really. His eyes…

"Hey, hey. Dean. Look at me. Deep breaths," John instructed.

Dean realized that he was starting to hyperventilate. He was going to throw up. Dean took a fleeting glance at his parents, before squeezing his eyes shut. What the hell was happening?

He…can't…breathe…

* * *

Sam found his parents sitting beside Dean's bed. John had his arm around Mary while she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hey mom," Sam greeted, "dad."

"Everything went okay?" Mary untangled herself from John's arms.

"Yeah. I stopped by the house and picked up more stuff, clothes mostly. Anyway, how's Dean?" Sam pulled up a chair beside his parents.

"He'll be fine. Most of the cuts were shallow, only a few needed stitches. Blood loss, but nothing a transfusion can't fix. A broken ulna and radius, some bruises here and there, slight concussion, nothing too serious" Mary assured.

Sam thought that his brother looked worse than what she had described. Dean was not wearing a top, since his torso was already covered with bandages. If not for the bright blue cast on his right arm, Sam would have thought that he was looking at Dean through a monochrome lens. He was so pale; he was blending in with the cream sheets.

"Then why isn't he awake yet?" Sam frowned.

"He did, a while ago, but he had a panic attack and they had to sedate him," John explained.

Of course he did. Dean just got kidnapped by a demon, which happened to be wearing his colleague. Not to mention the other demon, which was having too a little much fun torturing him. Oh, and he woke up in the hospital to find his allegedly dead mother sitting beside him.

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. How exactly did things turned out this way?

"I'm going to get us some food," Mary announced, and she was gone before anyone could say anything.

Sam knew that she was giving him some time alone with John.

"You alright?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just thinking about the way things went, you know. You and Dean weren't supposed to be a part of this. That's why mom left. She was trying to protect both of you. And I…I shouldn't have let him out of my sight. I should have…If I hadn't lost him…" Sam rambled on.

It was his fault. If he had followed Dean better, the demon would not have taken him.

"Not your fault, Sam. Besides, you did great back there. You exorcised those…those…uh demons," John gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

So this was how it felt like to have a father. It felt…nice. Sam had gotten used to life without one. He never thought that he would want a father, or a brother. They was doing alright without John and Dean, all things considered. However, as he looked at the two of them, Sam realized that he wanted to have a whole family, badly.

"Stop."

Sam snapped out of his musing and turned to the source of the soft gasp. Dean squirmed under the sheets, his brows pulled together into a grimace.

"Nnnn…"

"You're okay, Dean. You're safe," Sam laid back into his chair and watched as John comforted Dean.

His father took a step back in surprise when Dean's eyes shot open and he sat up.

"Oh god! Dad! Max was…I saw…Mom!" Dean scanned the room frantically and his eyes rested on Sam, "What…who?"

"Dean, would you just calm down. It's alright. Just take deep breaths," John placed a palm on Dean's heaving chest.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam as he fought to keep his breathing under control. Sam wondered how he was going to go about doing this. What should he say? After a minute or so, Dean had finally calm downed enough to form a coherent sentence.

"I know you. You're the shady guy back at the house," Dean coughed, "What happened?"

Shady guy? Thanks a lot, Dean.

Sam held his tongue as John started to explain. John gave a quick rundown of everything that went down earlier that day. Sam was amazed at how well John was taking all of these. Dean on the other hand…

* * *

Dean blinked owlishly at his father after he finished his story. What in hell…so Mary and Sam were alive this whole time? And Max was possessed by a…a demon? A demon, really?

"Dean?" He could feel his father's hand on the back of his neck.

Dean retracted his gaze and looked down at his own body. He needed to mull things over for a minute. Demons exist? He prodded at his bandaged torso and winced when it stung. This was real. The black eyes were real. Mom was real. He was really sitting beside his baby brother.

"Sammy?" Dean finally looked up at the stranger after a minute of silence.

"It's Sam," the stranger rolled his eyes, "but, hey bro."

"What...what were you doing at our house?" Dean suddenly remembered.

"I was planting these," Sam held out two small brown bags from his pocket, "Charms for protection from demons."

"Oh." What was he supposed to say to that? Thanks for keeping them safe?

Dean was actually enraged. Mom should not have done that, leaving without a word. She had no idea what their departure did to him and his dad. He was made to believe that they were dead, for god's sake!

Dean did not want to be safe! He had wanted his mother and brother!

"Did you know?" Dean glanced up at his father.

"What? No! I wouldn't do that to you. You know that," John frowned.

"Where…where's mom?"

The word settled weirdly on Dean's tongue. It has been too long since he had called someone that.

"She went...Ah! Speak of the devil! I'm starving," Sam crossed the room in two strides and helped Mary with their dinner.

Mary was beside Dean in an instant, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Whatever rage that he was feeling before melted away, and was replaced by an overwhelming sense of contentment. Dean did not care if there were monsters on their asses at the moment. He did not mind being taken and tortured by a demon. He got to see his mother and Sam again, and that was all that mattered to him.

Dean reached out and snaked his arms around his mother in a tight embrace, ignoring his broken limb's protest at the exertion. He buried his face in his Mary's knitted sweater and choked back a sob. She was here. Mom was really here.

"Hey. You hungry? I bought you soup," Mary ran her hand through his short hair.

Mom was here. And she bought him soup.

Dean thought he would die from elation right then and there.

* * *

**Thanks for stopping by! The next chapter will be up next weekend!**

**Next chapter: The trouble begins. What exactly had Azazel's knife done?**

**-Kelsie**


	6. Chapter 6

John hated that they had to leave before Dean had healed. The doctor had advised against it, but they had to. None of them wanted to risk getting caught by the demons, or the police.

"Where to?" John put the town and normalcy in the impala's rear view mirror.

He sold his own car, since they needed all the cash they could get. The three of them had packed up after a few hours of sleep, and then got a groggy and grumpy Dean out of the hospital.

Mary gave him a small smile when he looked at her through the mirror. Dean was lying across the backseat, with his head resting on Mary's lap and his legs folded in an awkward position. Sam was also sleeping, with his head against the hard glass. John knew that the car was not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but the both of them were out before they left the hospital's parking lot.

"There's this place just five or six hours from here, belonged to Henry. We could go there," Mary answered quietly.

"Henry? Your friend who… Alright, but what are we going to do next? We can't just keep running for the rest of our lives," John pointed out.

"No we can't. There's this gun, it can kill demons."

"Kill demons? I thought you said that they can't be killed?"

"They can't, except if we use this gun. It's a special gun made by a hunter named Colt. We find the gun and then we can finish Azazel, once and for all."

"Great! where is it?"

"I don't know," Mary answered honestly.

* * *

Dusk had fallen by the time they reached Henry's place. It was a small, but well-maintained house. Sam had stayed here a few times himself when school was out during the summer. Henry had taught him how to shoot, how to hunt in the vast woods that surrounded the house.

"Dean, wake up. We're here," Mary tried to rouse the sleeping figure in the back.

"Help me with the bags, Sam?" John knocked on the window.

Sam and John carried their belongings into the house, which was surprisingly dust and dirt-free. He had expected cobwebs, since Henry had died at least a month ago.

"Two rooms. Seems like you and Dean would have to share," John noted, with a glint of amusement in his eye.

Sam caught on quickly and he let out a sigh. Sam was sure that Dean was used to having his own room, and when he recalled the mood that Dean was in this morning… Sam did not look forward to being stuck in the same room with his brother at the moment.

"What? Why can't we just find a place to stay in town or something? There's nothing here!" Dean complained while he entered the house.

"Sure there is. We have everything that we need," Mary followed behind.

"Yeah right! Is there even reception out here? What about hot water? I could use a shower right now," Dean slumped into a creaky armchair.

"Well, I could boil some?"

Dean's eyes were downcast as he picked at his cast. All of them tensed for another outburst, and let out a simultaneous breath of relief when it did not happen.

"Nah, it's fine," Dean sighed and shuffled into the bathroom.

* * *

After his refreshing, albeit cold shower, Dean decided that their small hideout was not so bad after all. The place was clean, and each room had its own functioning toilets. He was in a bad mood mainly because he was tired, hurting all over, and he really hated relocating. At least they did not have much to unpack this time.

Dean was rather glad that the three of them had the sense to bring the impala along. He would probably flip out if they had left his baby behind. He had left enough things behind as it was. His house, his job, his friends, his life...but it was worth it. He would give up the world to have his family by his side.

Dean dried himself gingerly, mindful of the cuts and bruises that decorated his torso and head. The cuts were still stinging from the shower and his arm and head were throbbing like a bitch. Damn demons. He swore that he was going to carve them a new one and break all their limbs.

His mind drifted to Max. The demon was exorcised, so was Max alright now? What about the murder case he was on?

"Dean? You alright in there?" Sam knocked on the door.

"Yeah, I'm done," Dean snapped and opened the door.

"Whoa, dude! Put on some pants will you?" Sam averted his gaze.

"Sorry. Force of habit," Dean grinned.

"And Dean?" Sam called out from the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave your clothes all over the floor! And why are your boxers in the sink?"

"I was going to wash them, Sam. It's just that normally, there wasn't anyone waiting to use the bathroom."

Geez…his brother had OCD or something?

Dean put on a pair of sweatpants before dropping onto his bed.

* * *

Sam wrapped a towel around his waist before exiting the bathroom. Unlike his brother, he did not have a habit of walking around stark naked. He found Dean lying on the bed with his injured arm around his abdomen and another arm over his eyes. Sam studied the wounds on his brother's chest. Some of the smallest cuts were already beginning to scab over, while the deeper cuts were still red and swollen, with a row of black stitches lining it. There were also patches of purple here and there.

"Dean?"

"Go 'way"

"Time for dinner. You wouldn't want to miss Mom's cooking," Sam nudged his legs.

"Yeah? Lucky you then, you got stuck with mom. Dad can't even m…make toast wi…ou…burn…'em"

Sam could barely hear the last part of his sentence.

"Hey, you want to eat or not? But you should at least take your medications before you…Hey!" Sam nudged him again, but he was already out cold.

"Whatever," Sam stepped away from the bed.

He was halfway out of the room when he doubled back and pulled a blanket over Dean's still form.

* * *

It was blindingly bright when he woke, and the bed beside his was already empty. He could make out the sounds of his newly-reunited family moving around at the other side of the door. Dean squinted to read the time on the clock.

How could he still feel exhausted after 15 hours of sleep?

Ugh, damn it. Dean regretted not taking his pills before he fell asleep, now his arm was killing him. He barely made it pass the door before he started stumbling over his own feet. With his good hand against the walls for support, Dean made his way unsteadily towards where breakfast was.

Huh, funny how the house was tilting more to the side with each step.

With a loud thump, Dean landed heavily on his palms and knees when he completely lost his balance. He yelped when pain shot up his injured arm. John and Sam were beside him at once. They were talking to him, but sounds were getting muffled and it was hard to make anything out among all the vertigo.

One voice stood out from the others, an unfamiliar voice which echoed painfully in his skull.

"You can't run from me boy, you are mine now."

What?

* * *

"Holy...You okay?" Sam was beside his fallen brother in a flash.

"Dean? Hey?"

Dean was kneeling on the floor, with a hand clutching at his bowed head and the other bracing against the ground. He was seconds away from face-planting onto the ground when John caught him by his shoulders.

"What?"Dean looked up with a look of confusion plastered on his face.

"What?" Sam parroted.

Sam shared a brief glance of perplexity with his father. What was that about?

Dean shook his head, as if it would help to clear it, before he started to get up.

"Whoa, slowly there. What happened?" John helped him up.

"I'm fine," Dean swallowed convulsively.

"Right, and I'm the president," John muttered.

Sam chuckled at his father's comment and helped him to guide the still swaying Dean to the table.

After making sure that his brother was not going to fall off his chair, Sam returned to his laptop. He had been looking for hunts in the vicinity, trying to find something to help pass the time until they got another lead on the colt.

Sam knew about his mother's reluctance to hunt, but it was impossible for them to sit by and watch innocent people get hurt when they could have helped. Besides, an occasional hunt served as practice and kept them in shape.

"Sam, eat your food before everything gets cold," Mary chided.

"I think I found us something," Sam chewed on his toast as he read the article.

"What is it?" Mary refilled John's coffee, before joining Sam in front of the screen.

"Five deaths in the same house, started five years ago. All the victims were found with their heads in the toilets, drowned in their own piss. Vengeful spirit?" Sam looked up at Mary.

"Yikes," Dean spoke with his face in his hands.

"Could be," Mary mused.

"A spirit?" John frowned, "What has it got to do with us?"

"We have nothing much to do now, since we'll be holed up here for a while. I figured we could take on some hunts to pass the time," Sam explained.

Sam scrolled down further. The police wrote the deaths off as suicides and accidents, of course they would. Sam was never fond of cops. In fact, most hunters shared the same sentiments. They tended to complicate things and cause more harm than good.

* * *

"Ghosts?! You're kidding," Dean opened his eyes guardedly when he was sure that the room was not spinning anymore.

Thank god it was over. That sucked out loud.

"So ghosts huh. They're real too," Dean lifted the steaming cup of coffee to his lips.

"You're mine."

What the hell was that! Dean winced at the resonating voice and looked around the room.

The other three heads at the dining table turned to him simultaneously.

Had he spoken out loud?

"What the hell was what?" John frowned.

"Nothing, thought I heard something," Dean rubbed at his temple.

Damn, his brains were all screwed to hell by that sudden bout of vertigo. He was hearing voices now? Maybe he should not have written off the 'lost his mind' theory he had back at the hospital.

Mary laid a hand on his shoulder, "You alright?"

He nodded curtly. Dean was really tired of being asked the same question over and over.

"So, what do you do when you find the ghosts? You kill them?" Dean tried to steer the conversation away from himself.

"We salt and burn the bones, put it to rest," Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"Right, of course," Dean shared a look with John.

Guessed the both of them had a lot to learn.

"I could go to the library after breakfast, see what I can dig up. Probably talk to the locals on the way," Sam announced.

Dean looked over at his father. Wow, he had never seen the old man so happy. John was not depressed or anything near it, but Dean knew that there was a part of him which never stopped thinking about Mary. On some nights, he would come home to find John asleep on the couch, with the pictures of Mary still in his hand.

"What?" John finally tore his eyes off Mary and glanced back at Dean.

"What? Nothing."

Whoops.

Oh well, as long as John was happy. Dean was still getting used to having Mary and Sam by his side, but at the same time, he was also afraid to get too used to their presence. What if they decided to leave again?

* * *

John caught Dean staring at him from the corner of his eye.

"What?" He asked.

"What? Nothing," Dean ducked his head and finished his toast with a last bite.

John was worried about him. Dean appeared to be better after he got some food in him, but he was still looked worn out and two shades too pale. John hoped that it was just the blood loss and he was not coming down with something else.

"I'll go with Sam to town. We need to have something that is not canned beans and ration packs in the kitchen," Mary started to clean up.

* * *

Mary had been dreaming of this moment forever: The four of them having breakfast together, like a normal family would. She placed a hand on Dean's shoulder as she walked passed, and he offered a tired smile in return. Mary knew that Dean was holding his breath all this while, just waiting for her and Sam to walk out on him again. She did not blame him, but what could she do to make up for her leaving twenty-two years ago? Where should she even start?

Mary decided that someday, Dean and her were going to have to talk about it. Someday, but not today, since he looked like he was going to nod off right at the table.

"Police have yet to apprehend any suspects for the double homicide at the White Harbor Warehouses…"

Dean's drooping head snapped up as he turned to focus at the television that John had just switched on. Sam and Mary also stopped what they were doing.

"Max Wollaston, a detective with the police department, and Karen Hydes, a teacher of a local preschool were found dead in one of the warehouses, their throats were slit…"

Mary turned her attention to Dean, whose eyes were glued to the screen with his jaw taut.

"Forensic evidence has shown that another PD detective, Dean Winchester, was also present at the warehouse, but his current whereabouts are unknown. The police department has declined to comment on the involvement of Detective Winchester in the incident, but the blood the police had found at the scene of crime suggested that he was possibly wounded…"

* * *

Oh god. Max was dead?

Dean swept a hand across his face.

Shit, man. Max.

"The Chief of the Police Department has pledged to do everything he can to comprehend the perpetrator of this hideous crime, which saw the death of at least one police department detective and…"

Dad had told him that Max and the woman were still breathing when they left. What the hell happened? Was it the demons?

"Dean?"

Not now, Sammy. He needed to be alone for a while.

Dean retreated back to his room without a word. He fell onto his bed and stared at the wooden ceiling, until the grains of the old wood starting to blend together.

Max was dead because of Dean. He was dead because the demon wanted to get to Dean. Damn it, Max.

His eyelids fluttered close.

When he opened them again, the white sunlight that flowed into the room earlier had been replaced by the orange glow of the setting sun. Dean frowned at the time on the clock. It was already six in the evening? Damn it, he had slept the day away again, for the third day in a row.

The dead silence that hung in the air meant that Dean was probably alone in that house. Great, where did everyone go?

Dean was rubbing his bleary eyes and almost blinded himself when he jumped at the sudden voice from behind him.

"Hello, Dean."

"Jesus!" Dean exclaimed and turned around.

That voice, it was the one he heard in his head that morning.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I got lots of names, but Jesus isn't one of them," the man winked, "Just call me Azazel."

* * *

**Will be updated again next weekend!  
-Kelsie**


	7. Chapter 7

"You're Azazel," Dean groped around the bed for his gun.

How the hell did the demon find him anyway? Didn't Sam have those magic bags stashed around the house?

"So you've heard about me," Azazel laughed, and sat himself down on Sam's bed.

"You kidding me? You're the reason why I haven't seen my mother and brother in twenty years you son of a bitch," Dean snapped.

"Ah…no, see, that wasn't me. That was on your mom. If I had my way, you would still have a normal, whole family growing up," Azazel smirked, "of course terms and conditions apply."

"What are you saying?"

"But I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to talk about you."

About him?

"Yes. Well, I was going to kill you. Relax, I said 'I was' didn't I? But now I have other plans. You are going to help bring me Mary and Sammy."

"Over my dead body!"

"Now, why would I destroy the only bargaining chip I have left?"

"I'm not your…chip," Dean growled.

"Yes you are," Azazel lifted something out of his coat.

Dean shrunk back a little at the sight of the knife that he had been cut with back at the warehouse. Oh man, not again! Couldn't a guy catch a break?

"Torture me all you want, but you're never getting my family."

"Torture you? No. The knife has already done its work,"

"What?" Dean was dumbfounded.

"This," Azazel motioned to the knife, "is one of my favorite tools to play with downstairs. Small and handy, but does a truckload of damage."

Dean looked down onto the lines that decorated his chest. Oh crap. What kind of trouble was he in now?

"I bet you're starting to feel the effects, aren't you? It's only going to get worse, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. But fret not! Sammy could always…you know, decide to make a little deal with the devil, his soul to save yours or something like that."

"My soul?" Dean looked back up.

"You should see the state of those poor bastards when I was done with them at the end of the day. Even Alastair was impressed," the demon was grinning as he stood up.

"Like I said, I'd rather die," Dean closed his grip around his gun beneath the covers.

"You're already mine, Dean-o. Even if you die, you're still mine. Your soul is ear-marked for hell."

Wait a minute. Why was Azazel threatening him if the demon could just…Did that mean that Azazel could not find them? This was good, it meant that his family was safe.

"You can't find us," Dean stated smugly.

"Picture it like bait on a hook. You're the worm impaled on the hook, and they're the fishes that I'm trying to catch," Azazel explained.

"Why are you telling me these?" Dean mused.

The demon was not stupid. Why would he let Dean in on the plan?

"Because you're going to break and I'm going to win," Azazel smiled.

Dean pointed the gun in between the demon's eyes and pulled the trigger, not caring if he was just shooting at thin air. He needed to do something, to hit something, to get rid of the fear and rage blossoming inside of him.

* * *

John was strolling back to the house from his little walk in the woods when he heard the gun go off.

Shit! Dean! He sprinted towards the house, all sorts of gruesome scenarios running through his head. John burst through the door cautiously and quickly located his son, which was out cold on the floor between the two beds, his left hand still clutching the gun. He picked up another gun from Sam's duffel and checked the whole house before tending to Dean.

"Oh shit," John checked him over for any fresh injuries, and was glad to find nothing.

"Dean, wake up," He tapped on Dean's cheeks lightly, which elicited a groan from his son.

Dean was awake at once. He pushed himself away from John and started sweeping the room with his gun raised. John followed Dean's gaze, but there was no one else in the house with them. He made sure of that.

"Is he gone?" Dean looked terrified.

"Who are you talking about? Who were you shooting at?" John noted the bullet hole on the wall.

"Azazel," Dean sank back onto his bed.

* * *

"Same victim profile, same MO. I think I'm pretty sure it's her. Cops ruled out her death as a case of accidental drowning, but I bet her fiance did it," Sam had picked Mary up from the stores after researching about the current case on their hands.

"That's why she is going after the men who moved into the house, and the women were left unharmed? So why the same day every year? Some kind of anniversary? " Mary flipped through the police reports that Sam had managed to gather.

"It was the day of their engagement," Sam made a turn and the impala quavered slightly on the uneven road towards Henry's place.

"Do you know why he did it in the first place?"

"Yeah…I talked to him just…wait, is that dad?" Sam spotted John racing towards the house.

Mary and Sam jumped out of the car and hurried after John. By the time Sam reached the room, John was kneeling in front of a distraught Dean, who was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

"What happened?" Mary panted as she caught up with them.

"Azazel was here. I shot him, I don't know," Dean sighed.

That was not possible. Sam still had the charms, and Azazel or any other demons should not have been able to find them. Besides, there were the salt lines and devil traps drawn all over the house. It must have been a very vivid nightmare or a delusion or something. The fact that Dean was hearing voices in his head that morning further supported Sam's theory.

"That's not…are you sure?" Sam's tone was laced with worry and doubt.

"Honestly? I don't know man," Dean replied wearily.

Sam was expecting Dean to defend himself, a retort, anything but this. Dean's confusion only served to increase Sam's worry by tenfold. What exactly had the demons done with him?

* * *

"That's not…are you sure?"Sam questioned.

Dean was absolutely sure that he was not imagining things. He was not going insane. Azazel was here, maybe not physically, but all of it was real. He shuddered at the thought of dying and going to hell. Dean was terrified, for himself and for his family. What was he supposed to do?

Not break, that was what.

"Honestly? I don't know man," Dean lied.

He had to keep all of it under wraps, at least until they found and destroyed that sadistic son of a bitch.

* * *

Sam's week passed without much event. Mary had taken John on his first supernatural hunt. They took care of the lady ghost who liked to drown her men in their own piss. Fortunately, it was just a simple salt-and-burn. The rest of the week was spent on giving John and Dean a crash course on hunting all things supernatural.

Last night, Mary and John had taken off to follow a new lead that they had gathered on the demon-killing gun, leaving Sam alone with Dean.

"Take care of your brother okay?" Mary had instructed before she left.

"He's older. He should be the one taking care of me," Sam had joked.

Sam was in the midst of researching on the new hunt he had picked up when Dean entered their room. Sam had been watching his brother for the past few days, and there was no doubt that something was off. Dean's wounds were healing up nicely, but he did not seem to be getting better at all. Not to mention the Azazellucinations that Dean had. Something was definitely off.

"Maybe we should get you checked out by a doctor," Sam suggested.

"What? Why?" Dean shrugged off his shirt and climbed into his bed.

"I don't know, Dean. You tell me," Sam let out a worried sigh, "you look like crap, you haven't been eating much, you've been having aches and pains, and then there's the dizzy spells."

Dean threw an annoyed glance at Sam before he turned his back on him.

* * *

Dean let out a defeated sigh when Sam started to list out the symptoms that he had let slip past his façade. So he was not doing a very good job of pretending after all. Sam was right, and so was Azazel. Dean felt sicker every day, and he wondered how much worse it could get and how long did he have left.

Maybe it was time to tell someone about it. He didn't need tell them the whole truth.

Nah, he probably shouldn't.

But he was going to die.

No.

But…No. He was not going to let the demon win.

All the conflict in his mind was giving him a headache, on top of the one he already had. How was that even possible? And having his little brother yammering away beside him was not making things any easier.

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean opened his eyes and all he saw was Sam's face.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean bolted up from his prone position, "you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"If you are really okay, then you should have heard me walking over. You're really out of it lately. So spill it, what's wrong with you," Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean replied instinctively.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm going to tell them," Sam jerked his thumb towards the direction of Mary and John's room, "that you can't stop puking your guts up in the middle of the night. We're going to haul your ass to the hospital and they're going to keep you there for all sorts of tests…"

Damn. Dean had no idea that Sam was awake at those times. So much for trying to be quiet about it.

"What are you, five?" Dean rebuked.

"Does it have anything to do with the demons? They did something to you, didn't they?" Sam guessed.

Right in one, genius.

"Bite me, Sam," Dean snapped, "just shut up and get off my case will you?"

Dean regretted his heated defense a second later. He had basically just admitted that Sam was right, and now his brother was not going to leave him alone until he got answers.

"There's nothing you can do, Sam. So just leave it. Okay?" Dean stared straight into Sam' eyes.

Azazel was not having Sam, or Mary. Dean would not let it.

* * *

"What do you mean? So what, you know something that we don't?" Sam was appalled by Dean's confession.

"Don't we have a whatisit-dingo to hunt tomorrow morning? Quit bitching and go to bed, bitch," Dean yawned and slid back into his covers.

"You're a jerk you know that? I'm only trying to help you!" Sam seethed and kicked Dean's bed.

"Night, Sammy."

Sam knew that he was not going to get any answers from Dean, not until it was too late. Dean was impossibly stubborn and extremely irritating that way. Sam swore that it took ten years off his lifespan every time he tried talking to Dean. He scrolled through his contacts in his phone, trying to find someone whom he could turn to for help. Sam's thumb hovered briefly above the name, before he made up his mind and hit the dial button.

"Hello?" a gruff voice answered on the first ring,

"Bobby? It's Sam. I need your help," Sam looked over at his sleeping brother.

* * *

**As usual, the next chapter would be up next weekend!  
-Kelsie**


	8. Chapter 8

"Are we there yet?" Sam attempted to stretch in the limited confines of the impala's passenger seat.

Dean had insisted on taking the wheel, and Sam had slept for most of the drive to Bobby's place.

"Just outside of town. We'll probably be there by the next hour. Why are we going to Sioux Falls anyway? Don't we have a dingo to kill?" Dean asked.

"Somebody's taking care of that already," Sam assured, "I figured you must be bored being coped up in that small house all week. So you know, we should go visit a friend, stretch our legs a little."

After Sam's late night phone call for help, Bobby had put some other hunter on the Wendigo hunt. He had ordered Sam to take Dean to his place, so that Bobby could better assess the kind of crap they had gotten themselves into.

"This Bobby guy?"

"Yeah Dean. He could help."

Sam chided himself when that slipped out. Dean would never have agreed to this road trip if he knew the real reason behind the visit to Bobby.

"Help with what?" Dean shot a quizzical look at his passenger.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

"With the colt. He could help us find the colt."

"Oh," Dean returned his attention to the road.

* * *

Mary read the new message that she received from Sam.

_Taking Dean to Bobby now, maybe he can help. _

"What is it? Everything okay back there?" John asked.

"Sam and Dean are headed to South Dakota to visit a friend, Bobby Singer. Sam thinks that he may be able to help Dean," Mary answered.

Mary knew that all of them was aware of how off Dean was lately. None of them had dared to voice out their observations though, since nobody wanted to incur Dean's wrath.

"So what, he's a doctor or something? Could he help?" John was skeptical.

"If anyone could, it would be Bobby," Mary assured.

Bobby had the knowledge, experience, and connections. He had never let Mary down.

"And this Elkins guy, you really think that he has the colt?"

"I'm not sure, but he might know where we should look."

Mary had gotten the intel from one of the many hunters who still owed her father a favor. Either for saving his life or for helping him to acquire a valuable object, Mary could not remember. Since her father was a pretty good judge of character and chose his acquaintances wisely, Mary believed that this would not be a wasted trip. She had faith that Elkins was most definitely able to provide the information on the gun that they needed.

* * *

"Your friend lives in a salvage yard?" Dean glanced distastefully at the rusty sign which read '_Singer's Auto Salvage_'.

"It's a cover mostly, although it also acts as a source of Bobby's income. Hunting isn't exactly a paying job," Sam climbed out of the vehicle.

"A cover?" Dean followed and stretched his cramping muscles.

"Yeah, you know, for getting rid of bodies, evidences and stuff," Sam shrugged.

Dean stopped mid-stretch and gaped at Sam.

"I am a cop after all, Sam," Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Not anymore, you're not," Sam reminded him of the mess that he was in.

Right, he was never going back to his old life. A life where monsters did not exist.

No, that was wrong. Monsters did exist. He just was oblivious to the dangers of the world that they were living in. Fear gripped at Dean's heart as he realized how vulnerable his dad and him were before all this, before he knew the truth about...everything. They were lucky that they did not get sucked dry by a vampire or eaten by a dingo. Sam had shown him a picture of that human-eating monster. Oh, it was fugly all right. Dean bet it stinks too.

Sam led them through the maze of ruined cars to a house which had obviously seen its better days. Sam knocked on the wooden door painted with sigils, but received no response.

"Is anyone even home?"Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to bring down my door you idjits?" The door was suddenly flung open, revealing a bearded man with a worn out baseball cap.

Dean frowned at the unwelcoming welcome. Sam, apparently used to the old man's lack of hospitality, wrapped his long arms around the man. The man's face seemed to soften a little as he returned the gesture.

"Um…hi?"Dean interrupted.

"Bobby, this is my brother Dean. Dean, Bobby Singer," Sam introduced.

Dean held out his hand, which Bobby shook after a second's hesitation. After that, the trio stood and stared at one another awkwardly.

"Well, what are you two still standing there for? For hell to freeze over?"

Sam proceeded inside the house, followed by Dean. The interior of the house fared slightly better than its rundown exterior. At least the wallpaper was not peeling off the walls. Thick books and papers were strewn all over the tables and shelves, but Dean was sure that Bobby still knew where everything was.

"Beer?" Bobby held up two opened bottles, one of which was seized by Sam.

"Nah, I'm good," Dean declined.

"Water? Juice?" Bobby asked.

"No, thank you."

"Well then..."

The next thing Dean knew, he was blinking water out of his eyes while some of it dribbled off the tip of his nose and his chin. He swept a palm across his wet face. What in hell…

"Sorry. Can't be too careful, ya know?" Bobby shrugged with a metal flask on his hand.

"Holy water?" Dean guessed, and pointed to Sam, who was wearing an amused grin, "Then why is he still dry?"

"Because he's already drinking my beer," Bobby tossed him a rag.

Bobby must have doped the beers with holy water too. Suspicious old man.

"I'm not wiping my face with that!" Dean eyed the piece of torn fabric in disgust.

Dean supposed that being uptight must be part of the job description of a hunter, since all the monsters and evil out there were just waiting for the window of opportunity when one finally let his guard down.

He should have just taken the beer, if only Dean did not feel as if his stomach was trying to crawl out of his mouth. Dean dried his face with his sleeve when he heard someone coming down the stairs. All three pairs of eyes turned to source of the footsteps.

"So the boys are finally here."

"You didn't tell me that Bobby has a hot girlfriend?" Dean nudged Sam with his elbow, earning an eye roll from his brother.

"Pamela Barnes, an old friend of mine. Thought she might be able to help with Dean's demon problem," Bobby motioned to Dean with his half-empty beer bottle.

"Wh…how did you…" Dean glanced sharply at Sam, "man, you're a lying bastard."

He should have known that Sam would not just let it go. Damn it, Sammy. However, a small part of Dean was glad that Sam had insisted on helping him. Who knows? Maybe there was a way that he could survive this without needing to put his family in danger. But Dean was not optimistic about this at all. Azazel would probably have made sure that it was impossible for the worm to get off the hook. After all, Dean was Azazel's only leverage against Mary and Sam at the moment, because with the protective charms intact, the demons would have no luck on tracking them down.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Pamela eyeballed the both of them before she winked at Dean, "Just so you know, I'm not anybody's girlfriend."

Huh. Dean could probably forgive Sam for bringing him to Bobby's after all.

"Got to say, Bobby, I'm impressed with how clean this house is," Pamela snatched Bobby's beer and took a swig.

Well, that lady had an unconventional definition of clean.

"No spirits, no bad vibes, no nothing. It's like a psychic vacuum," she elaborated.

Oh, that kind of clean.

"Even after…" Pamela trailed off.

That piqued Dean's curiosity. Even after what?

"That means that my wards are working," Bobby waved her off.

"Wait, so you're a psychic?" Sam asked.

"Awesome. Like the Ghost Whisperer?" Dean added.

"I can be anything you want me to be," Pamela teased.

"Uh huh?" Dean grinned.

"Best damn psychic in the state," Bobby commented and downed his beer, "alright! So shall we get started or do you three want to go get a room first?"

That would be…awkward. Dean tried to scrub the image out of his mind. And what did Bobby just said? What were they going to get started on?

"Hold…hold on a sec. What are we going to start?" Dean held up his hands.

* * *

"Pamela has found a way to find out what kind of damages had been done. Damages that lie far beneath the surface," Bobby replied.

Bobby dropped an old, heavy book into Sam's hands. Sam flipped it open to the page marked by the Post-it note. He fingered the Latin words as he read on.

"One who has access to the spirit world could also tap into the power of the spirit world and be empowered with the ability to…see," Sam translated aloud for Dean.

"See? See what?" Dean asked.

"See into the souls of the living," Sam translated the last line of the paragraph.

Sam crossed his fingers and hoped that it would work. They would have to know what they were dealing with before they could start to help Dean.

"Well, don't be too modest. Bobby was the one who found the spell in the first place," Pamela announced.

She had just finished positioning the candles on the table, at every tip of the five-point star drawn onto the table with red paint. Bobby produced a match and lighted the candles before he switched off all the lights in the room. Shadows danced eerily on the walls as the flame flickered.

"Sam, I…maybe we shouldn't do this," Dean pulled Sam aside.

Dean looked…scared? And he also looked absolutely terrible in the wavering candlelight. Beads of perspiration were also forming on his forehead.

"Why not? Dean, it'll be fine," Sam nodded once.

They had to find out what was bugging his brother. They had to do this.

* * *

Pamela Barnes watched as Sam Winchester joined her and Bobby at the table, with Dean in tow. She took a deep breath to calm herself and entered what they called a state of calmness and relaxation.

"Alright, let's get to work," Pamela held out both her hands, which were claimed by Bobby and Sam at both her sides.

Dean hesitated for a moment before placing his hands on the table and grabbed Bobby and Sam's free hands.

Pamela felt something inside her click into place as their small circle was complete. She closed her eyes and started the incantation, "Aperiesque ostium, mihi permittas virtutem, virtus visiva."

A wave of warmth washed over her after she finished. Nobody but her could sense the portal of the spirit world in the middle of their circle. Pamela opened up her mind and soul to the other world, and welcomed the surge of energy flowing into her body.

"Aperiesque ostium, mihi permittas virtutem, virtus visiva." Pamela repeated the chant.

With her eyes still shut, there was nothing but darkness beneath her lids. And all of a sudden, she could see everything, without even needing to open her eyes. She could see the darkened room, which was bathed in a bluish glow. She could see the three of them at the table, and in the middle of the circle was a hole, an abyss that led to the other plane of existence. Sam and Bobby wore a peaceful expression with their eyes closed, while Dean was peeking through his lashes.

Not only could Pamela see the three men, she could see inside them. She could see their souls, their life forces, pulsing balls of light at their cores. Bobby and Sam's souls were golden and burned strongly. Pamela could feel the thrumming energy radiating from their souls. She turned her attention to Dean, and was concerned, actually more than concerned, at the state of his soul. It was not burning as bright as the other two souls, not even close. It reminded Pamela of a dying campfire, the barely glowing embers which were a breeze away from being snuffed out.

Dean Winchester was in trouble. Deep trouble.

* * *

Pamela had gone silent after she repeated the chant for the second time. Bobby hoped that it meant the spell had worked and now she was using her x-ray vision to find out what was wrong with Dean.

Bobby was distracted by the painfully tight grip that Dean had on his hand. Dean's palm was getting sweaty and his grip was getting stronger by the minute. Bobby sneaked a glance through one eye and noticed that Sam had done the same.

Both of them turned to the source of their discomfort, and found Dean gasping quietly, his face screwed up in pain. Sam looked at Dean, and then at Bobby with a worried frown. Bobby turned to the psychic, not knowing if Pamela had managed to find anything or if she needed more time.

As if sensing his unspoken question, Pamela opened her eyes and nodded at Bobby. She was done.

Pamela let go of both their hands. The instant the circle broke, the small flames on the candles went out. The room was pitch black for a second, before Pamela flipped the switches.

"Dean, hey," Without removing his hands from Dean's grip, Sam went to crouch at Dean's side, "Dean, what's wrong? What's wrong! Dean!"

Bobby tried to pry his hands free but was surprised at how difficult a feat it was. Either the boy was really strong, or he was getting old. Mind you, Dean was holding onto Bobby with his injured arm!

Sam and Pamela continued to try and get Dean to talk to them, with no success.

"Bobby? Pamela?" Sam was flustered.

Bobby was careful not to hurt Dean as he attempted to release Dean's fingers. Bobby sighed with frustration as there was just no way to free himself without breaking Dean's fingers. Fortunately, Bobby did not need to do that. Dean's grip slackened suddenly as Dean started falling off his chair. Thanks to Sam's quick reflexes, Sam caught his brother and avoided his crash landing onto the hard, dusty floor of Bobby's house.

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed as he went over to them.

"Bobby! What do we do? What do we do!" Sam yelled.

* * *

**Till next weekend!  
The little Latin incantation was obtained from Google Translate. Although I would say never trust whatever Google Translate churns out. It's mostly inaccurate.  
**

**-Kelsie**


	9. Chapter 9

"I still think that we should take him to the hospital," Sam paced in the small bedroom where they had placed Dean in.

"They won't be able to do jack squat! You heard Pamela, it's his soul," Bobby disagreed.

"But what if he doesn't wake up? It's almost light," Sam gestured to the still figure on the bed.

"We'll cross the bridge when we come to it," Bobby clasped the book shut, and swatted his hand at the cloud of dust from the ancient literature.

"And when the hell's the time to cross the bridge, Bobby?" Sam almost shouted.

It had been five hours. It had been too long.

"Don't yell at me boy. You think you're the only one climbing walls here?" Bobby flipped open another book.

"Damn it," Sam sat down heavily beside Dean, eliciting a groan from the unconscious man.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam shook his brother.

"Wha!" Dean grumbled.

Both Sam and Bobby let out a breath of relief.

"Oh thank god you're…"

"Wha ya d'ng?" Dean rubbed his eyes.

"What happened? You just collapsed. How are you feeling?" Sam tried to shake the image of yesterday's events out of his head.

"Feel like I swallowed a blender," Dean winced and propped himself up with his good arm.

"Think I found something! Do you two recognise any of these?" Bobby showed them a page full of intricate symbols.

"I don't…No, why?" Sam could not remember.

"According to this book, the only weapons that could cut through a human soul are those which are forged in hellfire. And get this, the demons like to brand their toys with their own logos." Bobby elaborated.

"Looking for the demon, how will it help Dean?" Sam turned to Bobby.

"The demons which made the weapons can heal the wounds it caused on the human souls. That's why the souls in hell can never die unless the demons let it. But why would they? They're demons. So the souls get shredded over and over for all of eternity."

"Uh huh, and you think what? A demon would heal Dean out of the kindness of its heart because we asked?" Sam scoffed.

"I didn't say anything about asking," Bobby shrugged, "We know the demon's name, we can summon it, trap it, and threaten it..."

"With the colt," Sam finished Bobby's sentence.

Bobby's plan might work, but they would need a name first.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Dean spoke up.

"Why not?"

"Because it's…it's dangerous," Dean laughed nervously.

"Of course it's dangerous you idjit! What'd you think? That this life's all roses and tea parties?" Bobby narrowed his eyes.

Sam was baffled. That was seriously weird, coming from Dean's mouth. Since when did he not want to do something because it was dangerous? All he did in his line of work was to throw himself in the middle of dangerous situations. Unless...

Dean was not worried for himself.

"It was Azazel, wasn't it?" Sam asked.

Dean avoided his gaze and was staring intently at his hand.

"It was yellow-eyes who did this to Dean?" Bobby stared quizzically at the both of them.

Huh. Maybe this was yellow-eyes' plan all along. Azazel wanted him and Mary, and now he had backed all of them up in a corner. Dean's life or theirs. Sam had to admit that it was a smart move. That also meant that they were screwed. Azazel was too smart to fall for this, but they still had to try.

"Crap. He ain't gonna fall for this joke of a trap," Bobby echoed Sam's concern.

"But we still have to try," Sam wondered if there was even a way for all of them to get out of this unscathed.

"Hang on, Mom's calling," Sam left the room with his phone.

* * *

"How you doing over there five-o?"

Dean smiled to himself. Beneath the all the grouchiness and brusque attitude lay bucket-loads of concern and affection. He now understood why Sam liked the man so much.

"What?" Bobby asked curtly.

Dean shook his head, "I'm just thinking…"

Dean groaned and held his head when the room continued spinning even after he stopped. Dean let himself fall back onto the pillow. He was sick and tired of this. Dean could not even remember the last time he felt so lousy. Damn demon knife. Damn demon bitch.

"About what?"

"About how I am bad luck," Dean sighed.

How he got Max killed, how he got himself in this crap, and how he was going to get his family killed too. Maybe he should have run away from the very beginning, like a dying dog would from its family. They would be safer without him by their side. But it was all too late now.

"What! Where are you?" Sam's agitated voice interrupted his musing.

That did not sound reassuring at all. Dean shared a look with Bobby. The two men fell silent as they eavesdropped on Sam's conservation with Mary.

"You think vampires did that?"

"How many are they?"

"Where are you and dad? You'll need backup."

"Okay, sure. Be there by noon," Sam flipped his phone shut with a loud snap.

Dean could hear Sam sigh before he pushed open the door.

"Elkins is dead. Turns out that he really had Samuel Colt's gun, but mom thinks that a nest of vampires have it now," Sam rubbed his forehead.

"Damn it!" Bobby slammed his fist down on the heavy book in his lap.

Great. More bad luck.

"I'm going to meet up with mom and dad. She thinks that we could probably sneak into the nest for the colt," Sam informed.

"How many of them are there?" Bobby asked.

"Less than ten. Don't worry, Bobby, we'll be fine," Sam slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Wait. I'm coming with," Dean sat up.

Sick or not, Dean was not going to sit on his thumb here and wait for his family to come back.

"No, Dean. Just stay here, okay?" Sam shook his head.

"You're in no condition to fight," Bobby stood with Sam.

"I'm not going to just stay here," Dean argued.

"Yes you are. You have never hunted before, and you are hurt. We can handle this," Sam said firmly.

Dean did not want to admit it but he knew that Sam was right. He was only going to get in their way

* * *

Bobby saw Sam out of the door before he got back up to check on Dean. The stairs creaked in tandem with his knee. He was getting too old for stairs.

He found Dean back in the blankets, with his eyes closed. Bobby assumed that he was asleep, but Dean stirred when he walked closer.

"Sam's gone? And you're here to babysit me?" Dean asked.

"I'm not babysitting you, boy. You want anything, get it by yourself," Bobby grunted and took a seat beside the bed.

"I'm here to talk."

"Talk?"

"About what you said earlier."

"About what I said earlier?"

"What are you, a parrot? Listen. All this, none of it is your fault, you hear me? This is all on Azazel. I'm sorry about the other cop but you didn't get him killed. The demons did," Bobby needed Dean to snap out of it.

The only thing that could keep Dean breathing at the moment was Dean himself.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Who's the parrot now? What do you want me to say? I'm supposed to be the one to look out for Sam, not the other way round. But now I'm just…useless. Azazel's going to get them, and that'll be all my fault. Because I'm…I'm not….I can't…"

"Just spit it out already. Because what?"

"I don't want them to die because of me, Bobby. Maybe I should just…"

Bobby did not need to know what kind of stupid plans were swimming in the boy's head, "Look. With you being the demon's bitch or not, they are going to go after the demon. That has been the plan all along, and that is the only way this is going to end. So you can either suck it up, and try to stay alive; or you can roll over and let the hell spawns win."

Bobby was aware of how things were different now, with Azazel owning Dean's soul, but so what? Life's a bitch and they would just have to deal with it, like they always did. The plan was very likely going to fail like the many others that did, but so what? They got a snowball's chance, they had to take it. Not like they had a choice anyway. It was the only way to save Dean.

Dean mulled it over for a minute, before he smirked, "I'm not anyone's bitch."

"Thanks, Bobby" Bobby heard Dean mutter before he closed the door.

* * *

Mary and John kept watch over the abandoned barn while they waited for Sam to arrive. The place was quiet in broad daylight, since vamps sleep during the day and wake up only after the sun sets.

John sharpened his machete with a small slab of granite and tested the blade with a finger. This was going to be his second hunt, and he was becoming pretty good at the job. John had forgotten the thrill that came with fighting and killing. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that came with each hunt, and most importantly, he wanted to kill the demons and any other evil bastards that threatened his family.

John stopped and looked at his wife. Mary was concentrating on filling each syringe with dead man's blood. A lock of blond hair was hanging loose in front of her face. John swept the rogue strands away from her face and tucked it behind her ear, earning a small smile from Mary.

* * *

"I wonder how's Dean doing," Mary tossed the now empty bottle and the filled syringes back into the duffel.

All that Mary could think about at the moment was Dean. Sam had filled them in on how Dean was getting worse, and that Azazel was the demon who did this to her son. She could not wait to put a bullet through the demon's skull and end the terror that had plagued her family for decades.

Unfortunately, killing the demon was not going to save Dean. What was she supposed to do? Mary could not lose him, not when she had just got him back.

"He's going to be fine," Mary was not sure who John was trying to reassure, Mary or himself. Probably both.

Mary and John straightened when they heard the sounds of an engine approaching. The black impala came into view, with Sam in the driver's seat.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked as Mary pulled him into a quick hug.

"There are eight of them in there, watched them brought two humans in with them. We have a few hours before it gets dark," John went over the plan, "you and your mom get the humans, I'll get the gun."

"Are you sure? Mom should probably go with you. You're new to this after all," Sam suggested.

"I can take care of myself," John was adamant.

Mary knew that he could.

"Let's go," She cued and they made their way down to the barn stealthily.

* * *

**Till next week!**

**-Kelsie**


	10. Chapter 10

**So I decided to finish up another chapter this weekend after all.  
-Kelsie**

* * *

Sam kicked the gravel around with his boots. John had gone around the compound to check the place out while Mary and Sam waited for him to give the all clear.

John poked his head around the corner and signaled for Mary and Sam to proceed, and they entered the barn through one of the windows. The bales of hay beneath their feet crunched slightly with each step. Sam squinted in the dim interior of the barn, which was only illuminated by the occasional ray of sunlight which filtered through the cracks in the wooden planks.

His eyes adjusted to the dark environment after a while, and he could make out six vampires sleeping on slightly swaying hammocks. Sam followed behind Mary as the both of them made their way past the sleeping creatures quietly.

Sam spotted the glass bottles littered on the ground after he knocked them down with his feet.

Oh crap.

Sam held his breath as the nearest vampire shifted in his hammock, but fortunately for them, he did not wake.

Thank god.

Mary waved to Sam when she found a bloodied girl tied to a post in the middle of the barn.

"Sam," Mary whispered.

Sam stood guard over them as Mary worked to free the girl.

"Shhh…I'm here to help," Mary whispered as the girl opened her eyes.

Sam flinched when a shrill scream filled the air, followed by a loud thump.

What the...

The head of the girl rested beside her slumped body, and bright red blood dripped from Mary's machete. Sam took a second to realize what was going on.

The girl. They had turned her.

Sam fervently hoped that none of the vampires were awakened by the commotion, but apparently that was too much to ask.

One by one, they climbed off their hammocks and slowly stalked Sam and Mary, who were backing up against a wall. From the corner of his eye, he saw Mary nod.

There was only one way out of here, and that was to fight their way out.

* * *

The next time Dean woke, he was no longer in Bobby's room. The brown, wallpapered walls were replaced by cream white ones, and all the homely furniture and clutter were replaced by what seemed like hospital equipment.

He looked down onto himself. In place of his T-shirt and jeans were a set of plain white scrubs. His cast was still there, but hey, for once he was not hooked up to anything.

A dream? Dean was actually unsure if he was referring to all that had happened before he woke up here or if he was referring to the present moment.

No, no. Everything was way too vivid to be a dream.

A familiar voice wafted into the room through the opened door. Dean got out of the bed, and was pleasantly surprised that nothing else in the room moved with him. In fact, he felt normal, and healthy. Still a little washed out, but he felt more human than he did for days.

"Yea Sam," there was the voice again.

Wasn't that Bobby? He was talking to Sam?

"I don't know."

His voice got louder as Dean approached the man. Bobby was talking on his phone with his back facing Dean.

"No. The doctors don't know squat!"

"Yea okay. Come quickly you lot," Bobby hung up.

"Bobby? What's wrong?" Dean went up to the man.

Bobby sat down heavily onto one of the plastic chairs along the hallway and continued to fiddle with his phone.

"Hey, Bobby? What the hell happened? Why am I here?" Dean sat down across the old hunter.

Was Bobby ignoring him?

"Bobby! Hey!" Dean snapped his fingers right in front of Bobby's face.

Dean sensed that something was wrong when Bobby still did not acknowledge him.

"What the hell?" Dean rose from his chair.

He waved his hand at a passing nurse.

"Oh my god."

Nobody could see him.

* * *

He felt the wind being knocked out of his lungs when the vampire threw him against the wooden crates. His machete flew out of his hands as he landed onto the, thankfully, hay-covered ground.

"Sam!" He heard his mother shout.

Damn it. The machete was just a little out of Sam's reach. The vamp snarled and stepped towards him. Sam moved back and cussed when his back met the resistance of a wall. But the wall seemed to budge a little when he pushed against it.

Hang on. It's a damn door!

Sam pushed open the heavy door and sunlight rained down onto the approaching vamp, causing it to bury its face behind its hands. Sam knocked the distracted vampire down onto the ground and beheaded it with a swing of his machete.

That was close.

Ow. Sam rubbed his sore back. He stood up just in time to see his mother take down the last vampire. Its head dropped soundlessly, followed by its kneeling body.

Sam yelled when he saw his dad emerge from one of the rooms,"Dad! You okay?"

"I got it, let's go," John yelled back.

"Wait! There are still people trapped in there. We have to get them out," Mary pointed to a fenced corner of the barn.

* * *

Dean was staring down at his own body. There were no words to describe how freaking weird it was. Huh. The first time in days that he felt normal, and turns out, he was not even…

And the part about how he was not hooked up to anything? Damn. They must have connected him with every life-sustaining machine in existence. Dean bent down to read his medical chart hanging at the foot of his bed.

"Gosh," Dean shook his head.

Basically nothing was working right inside him.

"How am I even alive," Dean chuckled.

"Not for long, Dean."

Dean whirled around and came to face with Azazel.

"You again. What do you want? Sorry, I don't think I'm up to helping you get anyone now. So will you just go away and let me die in peace?" Dean flicked his thumb towards his body.

"I already told you what I want. But don't worry, Dean. You aren't too far gone to help me. Just give me a ring whenever you change your mind. It'll work even if you're well, not in you anymore," Azazel tapped a finger against his temple.

"And I've already told you to go to hell," Dean retorted.

"C'mon Dean! Why are you still protecting them, huh? You're dying over here, and where are they? Not here."

"They're going to kill you, you son of a bitch."

"Even I can see it. They don't need you, Dean. Not like you need them. Seen how happy your dad is when he's around Mary and Sam? Happier than he ever was when he was stuck with you. They hunt together, they have each other's backs. But you? They think that you're a liability."

"Oh, this isn't going to work on me," Dean smirked and shook his head.

No, it wasn't. Azazel was going to have to try harder than that.

"You really don't think that they're planning on saving you, do you? Okay, maybe they are, but that would just be icing on the cake. Saving you is not the main mission. You said it yourself, they want to kill me, Dean. To save little Sammy and Mary. And if they succeed, you're going to die too."

"I don't mind really, as long as you die," Dean shrugged.

"You know, you could be walking out of here by tomorrow, parts all oiled and working the way they should. Just tell me where they are."

"Nah, think I'm just getting comfortable in that bed you know," Dean patted the bed, but his hand went all the way through.

"Think about what I said, Dean. And I guess I don't need to remind you about your ticking clock. You know where to find me if you changed your mind," Azazel leered at him before he vanished.

Dean swallowed thickly glanced back at his own body. Dean always thought that he would be able to embrace his own death, but now that he was staring at death right in the face, he was utterly terrified.

"I don't want to die," Dean breathed.

* * *

"That was Bobby," Sam leaned forward and rested his hands on the front seat, in between his parents.

"Dean's at the hospital. Bobby brought him there when his heart stopped," Sam announced somberly.

"What?!" His parents exclaimed.

"Is he..." John looked at Sam briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

"He's in a coma now. The doctors don't know why, but Dean's body is failing. He's not even breathing on his own," Sam sighed.

Sam tried hard not to think about what that meant. They were running out of time.

"But he's going to be okay, right? Did the doctors say that he's gonna be okay?" His mom looked shell-shocked.

"They're not…" Sam paused, "it's the third time his heart had stopped today."

"How long more?" Mary asked John.

"We're almost there. Almost there," John said as he floored the accelerator.

* * *

"Hey Bobby," Dean sat down warily beside a sleeping Bobby, and was relieved when he did not just fall through the chair.

That got Dean thinking though. Why was he unable to grab anything when he could stay solid on whatever surface he was on? Anyway…back to the situation at hand.

"I'm scared, Bobby. I'm really scared. Never thought I'd say this out loud. Man, I sound like a freaking baby," Dean sighed.

"You think I'm still going to go to hell if Azazel dies? I don't want to go to hell Bobby."

"I don't deserve to go to hell. I tried so hard to do good my whole life..."

Dean felt a sharp pang in his chest.

What was happening to him?

"Nggh," Dean gasped as the pain got worse.

He looked down onto himself. He was freaking flickering for god's sake.

Oh crap. He was dying.

* * *

Bobby was jerked awake by the loud announcement.

"Code Blue, Room 3751. Code Blue, Room 3751."

A group of medical personnel sprinted past him into the room Dean was in.

"That can't be good," Bobby muttered and followed behind them.

Bobby caught a glimpse of the doctor doing chest compressions on Dean before a nurse pushed Bobby out of the room and slammed the door in his face.

"Please sir, you have to stay outside," an orderly standing by beside him said.

Bobby wanted to tell him to go screw himself.

"What's happening?" Bobby asked instead.

"Cardiac arrest," the orderly stated monotonously.

There had to be a limit on how many times one's heart could stopped and restarted before it gives out for good. Bobby watched as his watch ticked, as minutes passed without any news from inside the room.

After what seemed like eternity, a doctor opened the door. The annoying beeping of the heart machine had to be one of the sweetest sounds that Bobby had ever heard.

Oh Jesus. Thank god. Dean was still alive.

"Is he okay?" Bobby let the doctor lead him back to the plastic chairs.

"Mr Singer, I hate to break it to you but your nephew's far from okay. This is his fourth cardiac arrest in a day. His heart is going to continue arresting as his organs continue to shut down. The arrests have taken a toll on his body, and honestly, the prognosis is…"

"I know. He's a dead man unless we find what is causing this," Bobby cut the doctor off.

He did not need to be reminded about Dean's grim condition once every damn hour.

"I assure you that we are still working on finding the cause of his organ failure. So far there had been nothing. Perhaps…"

Bobby saw the piece of form that the doctor was holding in his hand.

_DNR Order Form_

"You're not giving up on him," Bobby stated as calmly as he could.

There was no way in hell that he was going to sign on that damn paper. No way. Not to mention what Mary and John would do to him if he did.

Dean just had to hang on a little longer. The rest of the Winchesters were on their way back with Samuel Colt's gun. They were so close.

"The machines are the only thing that's keeping him alive at the moment. The rate that his organs are failing, there is no way that he is going to…"

"The answer's still no, doctor. Now, go away before your nose and my fist become fast friends," Bobby stared daggers at the doctor.

"Mr Singer, you are just going to prolong his…"

"I said NO! Goddamnit!" Bobby snapped.

The doctor glared back at Bobby before leaving him alone.

Just a little longer Dean.

Just a little longer.

* * *

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean shoulder-bumped the oblivious hunter, "for not giving up on me."

"I'm so screwed."

* * *

**DNR= 'Do Not Resuscitate'  
Ooh..I don't want to think what Mary and John would do if Bobby signed that form.**

**-Kelsie**


	11. Chapter 11

"Thank god you're all are okay!" Dean hopped up from his seat when he caught sight of his parents and Sammy.

"So? Did you get it?" Bobby straightened and walked right through Dean.

Dean gasped. Whoa, that was massively weird. Apparently Bobby felt something too, as he shuddered slightly.

"Oh my god," Sam breathed as he rounded the corner into Dean's room.

Mary and John followed closely behind. Both their expressions mirrored Sam's as they took in the state that Dean was in. Mary was biting down onto her bottom lip, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I know, I know. I still look awesome, don't I," Dean sighed, "Don't cry, mom."

"You get it? The Colt?" Bobby repeated his question.

"Yeah, we got it," John snapped out of his reverie and pulled out the gun from the inside of his leather coat.

"What do we do now? We can't wait anymore, Dean can't wait anymore," Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"We summon the demon tonight," Mary announced, wiping a stray tear off her cheek.

"We should get some rest, wait till morning," John contradicted.

Sam turned to his father with an alarmed expression, "What? Why?!"

"Listen. We're all beat, we all need to rest. If we are really doing this, we need to be hundred percent. We need to be ready and alert for anything," John explained.

Dean cocked his head to a side as he surveyed his father. He knew the man better than anyone else, and he knew when his father was not being truthful about something. John was lying. What was he not telling them?

"John's right, we'll only be getting ourselves killed if we go into this half-assed," Bobby backed him up.

"Fine. We wait till morning," Sam spared another long glance at his brother before walking out of the room with a frustrated scowl.

As much as Dean was afraid to die, he did not want his family to be in danger because of him. It always sucked to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. At the moment, Dean reckoned that he was pinned between two freaking boulders of diamond.

"I'll stay here with Dean," Mary took the chair next to the bed.

"No, Mary, you go with Sam and Bobby. I'll stay here," John laid a hand on Mary's shoulder.

"I can…" Bobby was about to say something when he was stopped by John.

"No Bobby. You two are the experts at this stuff. You'll need to rest. I'm just back-up."

"Okay, but you call if anything changes. Anything," Mary left reluctantly.

Dean rolled his eyes at the scene that was playing out in front of him.

"Seriously? Just go already you lot," Dean shook his head.

* * *

John was awakened by the light which spilled into the dark room when the door opened.

Damn, he had not meant to fall asleep.

"Mr Winchester? Sorry for waking you. I was just checking up on Dean. Can I get you anything? It must be pretty uncomfortable to sleep in that chair. There's a lounge just down…"

"No, no it's okay. Thanks," John rubbed his weary eyes.

The nurse nodded and proceeded to study the readings on the monitors, the sympathy in her face was plain as day. It infuriated John a little. His son was not going to die.

John glanced at his watch. Quarter past midnight.

John waited for the nurse to leave the room before he picked up the bag of supplies that Bobby had prepared. It held everything that they would need for the summoning ritual. The hard and heavy lump at his side assured him that the Colt was still safely tucked away in his coat.

"Don't worry, son. I'm not going to let you die," John smoothed Dean's hair, careful not to disturb the wires which were keeping him alive.

After making sure that he had everything, John stepped into the bright hallway and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Dean followed his father down the stairs to the musty basement of the hospital.

"I knew it! I freaking knew it!" Dean fumed.

Dean knew that something was up with his father. His father was going to do something stupid, and Dean would have no means of stopping him.

He halted when John suddenly turned around and poured salt across the threshold to the boiler room which Dean had yet to cross. Some of the grains splashed onto Dean's feet and he recoiled as if being burnt.

John's footsteps faded into the distance as he walked deeper into the room. Dean was left pacing outside the room which he could not enter.

"Son of a bitch! Damn it, dad!"

* * *

**A very short chapter, since I'm still trying to sort out where I want the story to go.  
Writer's block. Gah!**

**-Kelsie**


	12. Chapter 12

The can of paint was almost emptied by the time John was done with the devils' traps. They were drawn on the windows, doors and vents. One of the largest traps spanned across the entire ceiling of the room. John salted the entire room, in addition to the devil traps. He could not afford to take any chances with this.

John thought about his wife, about how mad Mary would be if she knew what he was going to do, but he had to. Better him than his family.

He studied Bobby's book. Following the instructions, he grabbed a chalk from the duffel and started drawing the symbol onto the floor, positioning and lighting the candles thereafter. After making sure that everything was in place in the middle of the room, John struck the match and the orange flame illuminated the dim room.

John read the Latin incantation from the book before he dropped the match into the bowl of herbs, which exploded into a red spark.

Everything fell silent after that, except for John's heavy breathing.

With the colt in one hand, John backed out of the devil's trap on the ceiling, his eyes darting left and right for any signs of the demon.

Had he done something wrong?

John gave it another minute.

Still nothing.

Great. He must have done something wrong.

He went to retrieve Bobby's book, when a hand clamped down hard onto his shoulder.

"Hello Johnny."

John swivelled around and was roughly pushed onto the floor. The metal bowl clanked deafeningly when John's weight knocked it onto its side. A man approached him slowly, with a leer on his face.

"I've been waiting for long enough. Thought you were never going to call," his eyes turned bright yellow.

"Azazel?" John scurried to his feet and backed away from the demon, the colt pointed right between its eyes.

"In the flesh. Well, not exactly but…you get what I mean," Azazel motioned to his body.

"C'mon John. We both know that you're not going to shoot me," the demon closed the distance between them.

"Don't be so sure," John tightened his grip on the colt and he noted that he was out of the trap.

He was so tempted to put a bullet through the bastard's skull, but not yet.

"Fine. Then what are you waiting for," Azazel taunted, "Wouldn't do your boy any good though."

"I want to make a deal," John let his hands fall by his side.

"You have my undivided attention."

"Can you bring Dean back?"

"And why would I do that?"

"I'll give you the colt."

Azazel laughed and shook his head.

"John. John. John. You underestimate me."

Two other demons appeared outside the doorway. The whole building shook as one of the demons snapped his fingers. The devil's trap was busted as part of the ceiling crumbled, and rocks of concrete rained down onto them. The ground buckled, rendering the traps at the door useless. At the same time, the salt lines were all jarred and broken by the impact.

"You really think that I wouldn't bring back-up?"

The two demons converged upon John, one at either side of him as they tried to back him up into a corner.

Crap.

John swung the gun up onto the demon on his right and pulled the trigger. A trail of smoke rose from the bullet wound as the man slumped onto the ground lifelessly.

He trained the gun on the demon beside Azazel and stepped back towards the door. He took the shot, but the demon disappeared and the bullet struck and cracked the wall across the room.

Azazel closed in on John and before he could turn around and make a run for it, his hands were pulled back by the other demon which materialized behind him. The gun was wrestled out of his hands and it was flung across the room.

John was running out of ideas.

"My soul! My soul for Dean's," John offered.

"No, I think I have a better idea," Azazel smiled.

Azazel tilted his head back as black smoke poured out of his mouth. John struggled against the iron grip on his biceps as the smoke crept nearer.

"No, no. No!" John grunted with the effort.

He really screwed up this time.

So sorry, Mary.

A shot rang out and the demon which was holding him back slackened and crumpled onto the ground, bringing John with him. John tried to extract himself from the demon's clutches but it was too late.

The last thing he saw was the still-approaching smoke before everything faded to black.

* * *

"Dad!" Dean followed the demons through the broken salt lines, only to see his father being cornered by the demons.

"My soul! My soul for Dean's!"

"What? No!" Dean shouted.

His eyes flickered between the Colt beside him and his father at the other side of the room.

"No, I think I have a better idea."

Azazel was closing in onto John.

Quick. Think, Dean.

What the hell.

"Stay away from him, you son of a bitch!" Dean grabbed the revolver on the ground.

Dean gasped in surprise when he could feel the weight of the gun in his hand.

Okay, awesome.

He cocked the gun at Azazel but before he could shoot, the man Azazel was wearing fell onto the ground as a cloud of black smoke spewed out of his mouth. Dean changed his target and shot the other demon instead. The bullet found its mark before the gun slipped out of Dean's grasp.

"What...Damn it!" Dean swiped his hand at the gun again and again, but he had lost whatever mojo he had on the gun earlier.

"Dean. How good to see you again. I haven't noticed you back there."

Dean's head snapped up at his father's voice.

"Dad?"

"He's in here somewhere, trapped in his own meatsuit," his father sneered.

Dean opened and shut his mouth. That was not John, but it was John at the same time.

No, that was not his father.

Dean cringed when he was reminded of the way Not-Max had looked at him.

"Excuse me, I have a busy day ahead. I'll be back for you later, so just sit tight," Azazel-John snapped his fingers and he was gone.

* * *

"Dad?"

The man was only a silhouette against the light outside the door, but he could recognize John anywhere.

"Guess again, Sammy," John looked up at him.

Sammy?

With one hand, John grabbed the collar of his shirt, while the other was raised outstretched towards the dark room.

There was a loud cry before the ceiling burst into flames.

He could see it now. The woman. The woman was pinned to the ceiling. The woman was on fire.

"Mom! Nooooo!" he heard himself shout.

"Adam! Adam, wake up!"

The image of the burning motel faded into the familiar walls of his own room.

The face of his own mother was peering down at him.

"Mom! We need to help them!"

God, his head hurt.

"You just had a nightmare, Adam. It's just a nightmare," his mother coaxed.

"No, you don't understand. They're in danger," Adam flipped open his laptop.

He squinted at the bright backlight of the screen as he started the search engine.

"Who's they?" his mother sighed.

Adam recalled the glowing neon sign outside the motel room door.

"Dad. I saw dad," he typed the name into the search engine.

"You mean you dreamed of dad."

He ignored her.

"Got it," Adam picked up his phone and started to dial the number listed on the motel's webpage.

"Adam Milligan. Stop. It's only a dream. It's not real," his mother placed her palm on his phone, her face scrunched up in concern.

Apparently she was not going to let go of his phone unless he told her the truth.

"This sounds crazy but it's not only a dream," Adam winced when the pain in his head spiked.

"Adam?"

"Look. I've been having these nightmares," he explained.

"I've noticed," she was growing more worried by the second.

"And sometimes, they come true."

* * *

**Till next week!  
-Kelsie**


	13. Chapter 13

He had been staring at the dirty ceiling for hours, willing for sleep to come, but the million things that were running through his mind at the moment chased it away. Sam jumped when the shrill ring of the motel phone filled the room. Who could that be? It was the middle of the night. Nothing good, he knew for sure.

Mary got to the phone in a second, seemed like she had no luck with sleeping either.

"Hello?"

Sam gave up trying to rest and swung his long legs out of the bed.

"You're looking for Sammy?"

Okay, first of all, his name was not Sammy. Sammy was a chubby twelve-year-old. Second, how did anybody even know where they were staying?

"Mom?" Sam motioned for the phone.

"No, John Winchester is not here."

"You're…what?!" Mary exclaimed suddenly.

"Mom!" Sam snapped his fingers, "Looking for me? Who is it?"

"Hang on," Mary handed the phone over to Sam.

"Hello?" Sam pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello? Are you Sam…Sammy?" An unfamiliar, young voice filled his ear.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Adam Milligan. I assume you know John? John Winchester? I'm his son."

Sam was speechless for a second.

A Son? Dad had…Oh wow. That was news. Sam wondered if Dean knew.

"Um…you…uh…" Sam stumbled.

"So you are Sammy right? I can't believe I'm doing this but this is important," Adam sounded hesitant.

"I'm Sam. Sam Winchester. John's my dad too."

Sam could hear the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the phone.

"He never…Huh. I didn't…"

"Yea, me too," Sam ran his palm across his forehead, "So, how did you get this number anyway?"

"The motel manager gave it to me. It's not his fault though. I said that it was a family emergency."

"And how did you know where I'm staying?"

"I…uh…this is the crazy part," there was a pause at the other end of the line, "I saw you."

"What do you mean you saw me?"Sam looked out of the motel windows instinctively.

"I had this dream about you. About you, dad, and your mom. Only that it was not only a dream. Things that happened in my dreams…they kinda…become real afterwards. You know?"

Wait, what?! First he learned that he had a half-brother, and now his half-brother was telling him about having psychic visions?

"No…I don't…actually." Sam dragged.

"Whatever. Look, sorry to bother you. I should never have called," Adam was about to hang up.

"Wait! No, Adam! I…tell me about this dream of yours."

"It happened in the motel room," Adam sighed, "That's how I knew where you were. Dad was there. At least, he looked like dad, but it was not him. His eyes. They were the wrong color."

Was Adam trying to tell him that a John was going to show up at their doorstep, possessed?

"What happened?"

"There was a fire…on the ceiling. Your mom…was on the ceiling."

"Oh my god," Sam gasped.

Azazel. It was Azazel's MO, burning people while they were being pinned to the ceiling.

"So you believe me? Dude, seems like you are crazier than me," Adam let out a breathless chuckle.

* * *

"Bobby, we have a problem."

"Of course we do. I'm coming over right now," Bobby slammed the receiver down before starting to put on his shoes.

Bobby wrapped his jacket around himself as he strode over to the next room. Sam opened the door on the second knock.

"Bobby! Azazel got dad!" Sam yelled the moment Bobby stepped into the room.

"Calm down boy. Start from the beginning. What happened?" Bobby glanced at Mary, her worried frown a splitting image of Sam's.

Sam launched into the story right away, and he went on and on about his new-found half-brother and how he was having visions about the demon.

"How did you know if the kid was telling the truth?" Bobby asked.

He did not get named The Paranoid Bastard for nothing.

"He must be. I mean, there is no way he could have tracked us. And what good would it do to the demons if we knew that they were coming," Sam mused.

"Alright, alright. Let's assume that he's telling the truth. You said it yourself, there was no way anyone could have tracked us down. So how exactly did Azazel get the jump on John?"

"You left your duffel at the hospital," Mary suggested.

"Balls," Bobby cussed.

"Dad's got the colt too," Sam mentioned.

John must have summoned that thing. Bobby assumed that John would be smarter than this. Looked like he was wrong. That stupid, stupid man.

"Then what now? We got nothing against that demon," Bobby sighed.

"Not nothing. We have information. We know that he's coming," Mary stated.

Bobby could hear the gears turning in Sam's head.

"Bobby, you should go back to the hospital. We don't know when this is going to happen, if it haven't already. Maybe you'll get there in time to stop dad. Mom and I will stay here and get ready," Sam started to unpack his weapons.

"You sure? You could sure use an extra set of hands around here if Azazel shows up," Bobby checked.

Bobby had no doubt about Mary and Sam's skills, but it was Azazel after all, not to mention who the demon was wearing at the moment.

"Yeah. You go Bobby. Go check out the hospital," Mary nodded.

"Don't do anything stupid, you hear? Having one idjit is enough in the family," Bobby warned.

Although Bobby was sure that his words were falling on deaf ears.

"Don't worry, Bobby," Mary assured.

"Don't worry my ass," Bobby muttered after the door closed behind him.

* * *

Sam sat at the foot of his bed, playing with the bottle of holy water in his hands. He was still thinking about his half-brother Adam, and of course it hadn't distracted him from their impending doom. Why would Adam be having visions? Unless he was one of…

"You got the holy water? Salted the windows? The traps?" Mary looked up from her book of exorcisms.

What was the plan again?

"Mom what are we supposed to do?" Sam nodded in response to her previous questions.

"What do you mean?"

"We're kind of backed up in a corner, don't you think? We don't have the colt, we don't have anything to fight against it," he sighed.

"We get the demon trapped and get it out of your dad. And we'll figure the rest out later."

Yeah right. When did anything ever go their way?

"Mary, it's me! Open up!" John bellowed outside the room.

"He's here," Sam froze.

* * *

Mary inched towards the door and looked through the peephole. It was John, but they knew better.

"John?" Mary shouted.

"Yeah! Open up!" Azazel-John pounded the door a few more times.

She smoothed the carpet with her feet uneasily before opening the door. Sam had moved beside Mary, ready and poised to fight.

"What took you so long?" Azazel-John stepped into the room, but stopped before the doormat.

Mary swallowed thickly, her heart racing in her chest. She turned to Sam, who stared back at her with flustered eyes.

One more step. Please.

Azazel-John did a double-take on the piece of carpet, before he smiled.

"Did you really think that this is going to work?" he flipped the carpet with his boots, revealing the devil's trap painted onto the underside.

No, Mary thought. She knew that they did not stand a chance from the start.

With a wave of his hand, Azazel-John threw and pinned the two of them against the wall.

"But I must give you credit. How did you know I was coming anyway? Hmm?" Azazel-John clapped and sat down on one of the chairs beside the door, "So, are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

"Go to hell," Sam spat.

"Mmmm…speaking of hell, I'm sure your brother's going to enjoy it there. He's running out of time," Azazel-John tapped at his watch.

Mary felt her stomach drop.

Azazel-John lifted a knife out of his coat, "And maybe your daddy is going to have a taste of it too."

He sauntered over to the two of them and raised the knife above his head.

"No!" Mary yelled.

No, not John too!

"Or what?" Azazel-John plunged it into his own abdomen.

"Dad!"

They were running out of options, but there was something else that she could do…

"John! No! Take me! Take me and leave my family alone!" Mary cried.

"Mom! What are you doing?"

"Really? Years of running and fighting. And you're giving up now?" Azazel-John smirked and traced her collarbone with the bloody knife, "Well, well. I must admit that I expected more from you, Mary Winchester."

"Mom? No! You can't do this. Don't please, Mom," Sam pleaded.

"It's what you want isn't it? Take me, and let them go," Mary was surprised at how calm she sounded.

"There is something of yours that I would very much like to have too," Azazel-John turned to look at Sam.

Mary will be damned if Azazel so much as lay a finger on Sam. She fought against the invisible restraints as he stepped closer to Sam.

Sam shrunk back as Azazel-John leaned closer.

"Do you have a better offer for me? Sam?" Azazel-John grinned, "Oh, do you need more incentives to make up your mind?" Azazel-John held a hand out towards Mary, and she could feel herself being lifted up against the wall.

Oh no. No. No. No.

The ground grew further and further away from her, and it was not long before her head connected with the ceiling. But her body continued to be dragged across the dirty ceiling, until she was fixed to the centre of it.

"Sam! Don't," Mary wanted to shout, but all that came out of her mouth was a strangled scream when she felt her abdomen being split open.

Sam watched helplessly as Azazel pinned his mother up on the ceiling. Crimson dripped from the growing patch of red on his mother onto the carpeted floor with sickening thuds.

It had been because of him from the very beginning. The reason why Mary left. Because of Sam. The reason why they were in this mess. Because of Sam. The reason why Dean, John and Mary were dying. Because of Sam.

Maybe it was time for him to stop running and hiding, and let Azazel have what he wanted.

"Alright! Fine!" Sam avoided Mary's piercing gaze.

He could not bear to see his family get hurt anymore because of him.

"I would say that it is the righteous thing to do, giving yourself up like that, for your family," Azazel-John clapped a hand on Sam's shoulders, "Exactly what we need."


	14. Chapter 14

John watched, aghast, as Mary bled while she was being pinned onto the ceiling by the demonic forces.

"Stop it, you bastard!"

He could not bear the thought of losing her again. John still remembered the time Mary had said 'yes' to him, the moment when he slid the thin, silver ring onto her finger.

Mary is the love of his life.

"I swear to god…"

_Swear to God? Please. What's He going to do about it?_

"Alright! Fine!" John heard Sam shout.

Damn it, you son of a bitch!

Not Sam too!

"I would say that it is the righteous thing to do, giving yourself up like that, for your family. Exactly what we need!"

John could feel Sam shaking when Azazel moved to put a hand on Sam's shoulders. Before John knew it, his other hand was moving, with the knife in tow.

Stop! No, stop!

Sam.

John recalled the first time he held Sam in his arms, how the baby snuggled in closer to John while he slept.

The demon was not having his son.

Stop it, goddamnit!

"Stop this!"

It had not registered that John had spoken the words until his grip on the hilt was loosened, and it tumbled onto the ground.

He stared at his own hand and flexed it a few times, mesmerized by the feeling of being in control again.

"Mom!" Sam dove past him, towards the centre of the room, but it was too late.

Mary started to fall, her head bouncing off the edge of the bed before landing onto the ground with a dull thump.

"Mary," John stood rooted to the ground.

What had he done?

"Mom?" Sam kneeled beside Mary.

John's vision blacked out for a second before he forced himself to snap back to the present. The demon; it was still inside him, fighting for control.

No. Never again.

He stepped backwards, right into the middle of the devil's trap painted on the carpet.

He was left with no choice.

"Dad?" Sam eyed him warily as John produced the Colt from his pocket.

* * *

Sam's mind raced to figure a way out of this. He glanced at the sluggishly bleeding wound at his father's side, and his owns hands which were slick with his mother's blood.

This was not fair. They had just gotten back together for god's sake!

"Dad?" Sam gasped when he saw the Colt.

"Sam, take your mom and go," his father ordered.

"What are you doing, dad?"

"Go! Now! I can't hold him back much longer!"

Sam was torn between getting his mother out of the demon's reach and staying with his father, but John's urgent cry prompted him to act. Sam scooped Mary up from the floor and backed out of the room.

Sam hoped that his father had a plan, and not a stupid one.

* * *

_What are you doing, John? Remember the previous time you pointed the gun at me? Didn't really go so well did it? Why would this time be any different?_

"Because this time I am not hesitating. This time, I'm going to succeed."

_Really? So you're willing to sacrifice yourself and Dean for Mary and Sammy?_

"I'm already dead. And so is Dean."

* * *

Bobby stepped over the two bodies on the ground. Damn. He was too late, which meant that the demon must have found Mary and Sam by now.

Bobby cleaned the area up, or at least erased any of John's traces and his own. He raced upstairs to check on Dean before bolting out of the hospital. The boy was still the same as when Bobby last saw him, except that he looked a little more like death with each passing minute. That renewed Bobby's sense of urgency.

It had started drizzling when Bobby stopped in the motel's parking lot. Through the blurry windshield and dimly-lit space, he could barely make out shapes beside the impala.

"Sam? Sam!" Bobby yelled while he made his way across the lot.

Bobby spotted Mary, lying prone in the backseat of their car.

What the hell happened? Where were John and the demon?

"Bobby? Dad's in the…"

Sam's words were cut short by a single gunshot which echoed through the entire parking lot.

* * *

Bobby swung by his room shortly after Azazel left with John. Dean had been so glad to see him.

"Bobby! You've got to listen to me! Dad tried to summon that thing, and now the demon's got dad! We have to…"

Bobby did not as much as look in Dean's direction before he exited the room as hurriedly as he came.

"Bobby! Bobby! Hey! Damn it."

He was useless!

"This sucks out loud!" Dean growled as he started pacing around the dark room.

And now all he could do was sit by his dying body and wait for his family to come back. What if Azazel got to them?

"What the…" Dean froze and turned towards the door.

Was that howling that he just heard? Outside the room?

* * *

**From the get go, Dean has always been drawing the shortest of the short straws. So, looks like his fate hasn't been changed a bit.  
-Kelsie**


	15. Chapter 15

_4 Months Later_

The last of the cool, damp dirt parted to reveal the warm and blindingly bright sunlight. He was finally able to take a nice, long, deep breath without inhaling bits of soil and god knows what else there was hiding in the ground with him.

Now that he was not fighting for air and being crushed under tons of soil, Dean was able to better assess his situation. He had just woken up to find himself in a pine box six feet under!

"Ugh!" Dean finally managed to pull the rest of himself out of the earth after a good ten minutes. Or maybe it was twenty, he was not sure. His sense of timing had been screwed to hell.

Hell.

The heat, the pain...He was in Hell!

And then he wasn't.

Wait. What if this was a trick?

No. He was not in Hell anymore, this felt…different. He felt different. Real.

Dean lay on his back as he savored the moment.

The sun, the blue sky. It had been so long. Decades, actually.

He was finally out!

Dean's ragged breaths were the only thing that filled his ears.. Nothing else. It was absolute silence around him. Not even crickets. He sat up and surveyed his surroundings.

"Holy…"

Everything in the vicinity of him was leveled, except for the wooden cross with his initials 'D. W.' on it.

Was that his grave marker?

More importantly, how did he get out of Hell?

* * *

The Sun was beating down mercilessly on his back as he continued to follow the road, in hopes of getting out of wherever this place was. Dean had yet to come across any vehicles since he started his trek five hours ago. How funny would it be, if he had escaped from hell, only to die again from heat exhaustion and dehydration?

Dean wondered if that was why he had been buried here in the first place. Why not in a cemetery? Maybe his family…

His family! He hoped that they were alright.

Finally, when he was about kneel over, a small building came into view. Upon closer inspection, it was a convenience store. Nice.

* * *

"Here you go," the waitress placed the sets of breakfast in front of the two of them.

"Thanks," Sam eyed his bacon and eggs with distaste.

He never liked diner food. They were too greasy and unhealthy for his taste. Unfortunately, this particular diner did not have a concept of having greens in their dishes either.

"Where are we going?" Sam pushed the pieces of cholesterol around his plate.

"Bobby's," Mary answered.

"Why?" Sam frowned.

It had been months since they had seen Bobby. Four months to be exact, since…

"Hey Dean!" Someone called from behind him.

Sam saw Mary's head snap up minutely, before falling back down again.

"Tod! Hey Fisher, nice to see you, buddy! So how's your…" It was just a couple of truck drivers who had entered the diner.

It had been four months, and the both of them had yet to get over the rude shock of finding John with a bullet in his heart, and Dean…

Dean.

Sam's stomach rolled at the thought of his brother. Dean had been all alone in that stupid hospital room, with no one to protect him when all those hell hounds showed up.

It was not fair. Not fair at all! Why Dean? What had his brother ever done to deserve this? What had they ever done to deserve any of this?

"You done? We should get moving if we want to reach Bobby's before nightfall," Mary broke his train of musing.

Sam sighed and nodded. He watched as his mother rose, abandoning her untouched short stack. He doubted that they would ever get past this, that they would ever feel whole and normal again.

Their family was broken, for real this time.

* * *

By the time Sam pulled the impala into the salvage yard, it was already dark. Mary waited till Sam killed the engines before letting herself out of the car.

"Why do you think Bobby wants us here anyway? Maybe he has a job for us?" Sam was one step behind her.

"Maybe," Mary knocked on the wooden door.

The past few months had been hard. Mary wondered if it would ever get easier, if they would ever stop feeling lost and empty inside. The both of them had started hunting again, to take their mind off what happened, but it was not working at all.

"Mary," Bobby appeared at the door at the second knock, "Sam."

"Hey Bobby. What is it?" Sam forced a smile.

"Well, there's something I need you two to see," Bobby invited them into the house and closed the door.

* * *

Bobby's heart ached for them as he saw the Winchesters standing at his porch, looking so forlorn and shattered.

Bobby took a deep breath before he explained, "Just to be clear, I did all the tests: silver, holy water, salt, everything that I ever came across in the books. Everything. It's really him."

"What are you talking about?" Mary shook her head, uncomprehending.

"You can come out now," Bobby waved.

Dean stepped into the living room hesitantly, looking better and cleaner than when he first appeared on Bobby's doorstep.

Bobby had found himself attacking the supposedly-dead man instinctively, and was glad that he did not actually hurt the boy. He did not know how, but the young man had escaped the fiery pit and became topside again. Maybe Mary or Sam made a deal with the crossroads demon, but judging from their expressions, he thought not.

"Hey," Dean smiled.

"Bobby, what…" Sam's eyes darted between Dean and Bobby.

"That's not my son!"Mary launched herself at Dean with her dagger.

"No! No, Mary, it's really him!" Bobby jumped in between them as Dean fell back onto the ground.

"It's tricking you, Bobby. It's not Dean. My Dean is dead," Mary snarled.

Sam was watching the scene with the same astounded expression he had from the get-go.

"Mary stop! You're about to kill your own son!" Bobby struggled to rein her in.

"Sam! Kill it! It's not your brother!"

Bobby was not sure if he could handle two murderous Winchesters at the same time. He prayed that Sam would take his side.

He did not, obviously.

"Sam, don't! Would you two idjits just stop and listen to me?" Bobby groaned.

* * *

Dean sprang up from the ground and backed away from his brother when Sam produced a dagger of his own.

Oh crap.

Sam pounced onto him before he could escape and Dean was shoved unceremoniously onto the table. Dean winced as the hard edge of the table impacted with his lower back. Sam held Dean down with his arm and jammed his blade under Dean's chin, drawing blood.

"Not a shapeshifter," Sam muttered to himself.

Sam stowed away his silver knife and grabbed another jagged Bowie from his jeans, which he used to nick Dean's neck again.

"Sam, stop," Dean gasped.

"Not a demon either," Sam froze and looked at him weirdly.

Sam shared a look with Mary, who had stopped fighting against Bobby,

"Dean?" Mary moved towards Dean.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you all along!" Bobby huffed.

Was he safe now?

"Yea, it's me."

* * *

"Dude, you're freaking alive!" Sam hugged his brother tightly.

It was his brother! Warm and alive!

"Nice to see you too, Sammy," Dean returned the hug.

Sam pulled away and studied his newly-resurrected brother. There was no indication that Dean had ever died. He had been buried for four months, and when they found him, it had not been a pretty sight. So how the hell did his brother…

"Hey mom," Dean buried his head in her hair as they embraced.

"Oh god, Dean," Mary smiled, for the first time in months, albeit with tears swimming in her eyes.

All of this felt so surreal, like it was too good to be true.

"Wait. Where's dad?" Dean finally asked.


	16. Chapter 16

**Apologies everyone! It has been a real long wait. I hope you're still with me!**

**The past few weeks have been a complete whirlwind. Yea, starting college in a completely foreign country will do that to you. ****Now that I've settled down in my new home, I'm back at writing again! Although I probably won't be writing as frequently as I did before school had started.**

**Kelsie**

* * *

Dean dabbed at the cuts on his neck for the last time before he threw the bloodied towel onto the table. He brought his hand across his face wearily.

This could not be true.

"Dad," Dean breathed.

The demons had not been lying. All those times when they told him that his father was dead, all those times when they had tortured his father in front of him. Dean assumed that it had been a trick, another kind of sick, twisted torture which the demons had cooked up.

Oh god. No.

He buried his face in his palms, trying to wrap his mind around the notion that his father was dead. His father had killed the demon. His father had killed himself. His father had killed him. His father was in hell.

"And there's another thing," Sam continued.

Dean looked up.

"Dad, he uh, he had a…umm," his brother exchanged glances with Mary and Bobby.

"A what?" Dean prompted.

"Adam Miligan," Sam blurted out.

Dean raised his eyebrows. Was the name supposed to mean something to him?

* * *

Sam stepped into the dark room which he was sharing with his brother. Stepping lightly across the creaky floorboards, Sam sat down on the edge of his bed and watched Dean as he slept.

It had been a long night, for all of them. Never in his wildest dreams did Sam think that he would see Dean again. As grateful as he was for a second chance with his big brother, Sam was worried about what this meant.

Dean had showed them the hand-print on his shoulder. None of them had ever seen anything like it, but the mark had to be made by some kind of supernatural creature. It must be connected to Dean's resurrection somehow. Who brought Dean back? What did they want with him? And most importantly, how does someone recover from being in hell for four months? Dean had sworn that he could not remember a damn thing, but the haunted look in Dean's eyes told a different story.

Dean's breath hitched as his brows furrowed, "Nnnnn."

Sam reached forward for his brother when Dean bolted up from his pillow, wide-eyed and gasping for air.

"Hey hey, you alright?"

"Huh?" Dean gulped, "Uh."

"Nightmare?" Sam hoped that it was just a run-of-the-mill 'monster-is-chasing-my-ass' nightmare and not a 'help-I'm-burning-in-hell' kind of nightmare. Although judging from Dean's pale complexion, the latter was more likely to be it.

Dean walked past Sam with an unsteady gait towards the bathroom. When he came back out, Sam's eyes followed his brother around the room, as Dean dried his face with his towel, and took a long drag of whiskey from a bottle, before sitting back down onto the bed.

"It's nothing. Go back to sleep, Sam," Dean shook his head.

"Dean…"

"Sam, stop."

Dean blew out a long breath and started to exit the room, "I need some air."

* * *

Mary stared at the picture of her family in her hand. She swept her thumb over John's face, wishing that he was still here with her, wishing that she had spent the last two decades with him, wishing that he was not still stuck in hell. She then moved her thumb over to the small face in front of John.

Her son was back. Dean was alive, again. She had owed his eldest too much. Dean had been through too much.

For the past few months, she have never stopped asking why. Why them? Why him?

Dean was back, and it was more than enough, but Mary could not ignore the gnawing pit in her stomach. Whoever brought Dean back must want something in return. What would they have to give up this time? Who would they have to sacrifice so that the others can live?

* * *

The cold wind from the wound-down window whipped at his hair and face as Dean sped down the deserted road. It kept him awake. Awake was good. Awake meant that he was not having nightmares about hell.

Metallica blared from the speakers. It was so loud that he could not hear himself think. That was good too, because no matter how hard he tried, Dean could not stop thinking about hell, his father, hell and oh yes, hell.

Dean flung the empty beer bottle onto the backseat, where it clanked dully with the rest of the empty bottles.

He could see the empty stretch of road in front of him, for miles, and he wondered where he was going.

Away. He just had to get away from all this crap that had been rained down on him.

"What the…" Dean frowned.

He switched off the music, but the annoying ringing continued. Dean cringed when it got louder and louder, until it was unbearably deafening.

"Ugh!" He covered his ear with his free hand, and cowered against the steering wheel.

A bright white flash obscured his vision for a second, causing Dean to stomp hard on the brakes. When he recovered his sight, the only thing he saw was the dark silhouette of the tree which his car was on a collision course with.


	17. Chapter 17

"Crap," Dean came to with the side of his head resting on the steering wheel.

He let the cool breeze caressed his face as he lay there, wondering what the hell happened.

Sam, Car, Noise.

A tree happened, that was what.

Slowly, Dean moved his head away from the steering wheel. The awful ringing noise had stopped, and for that he was glad.

The wheel was slick with blood, his blood. He could also feel the wetness soaking through his shirt, but he felt no pain at all. Huh. Dean ran his hands throughout his torso experimentally. He seemed to be alright, no gaping holes, no ribs sticking out of his chest, no nothing.

Where did all that blood come from?

Dean swept a palm across his head and it came away red, but he found nothing either.

"What the hell?" Dean was completely spooked.

Did that mean that he was dead? For the second time?

"You're not dead. You were hurt, but I healed you," a deep voice resonated in the small interior of the impala.

"Geesh!" Dean jumped and turned sharply to the passenger seat, where a stranger was staring right at him.

The face of the man was partly illuminated by the faint moonlight, but it was hard to make out anything except for the blue eyes. When the stranger showed no intent to explain why the hell he was riding shotgun in the impala, Dean growled, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my car?"

"I'm Castiel. I'm an angel of the lord. I was the one who raised you from perdition," the man answered monotonously.

Dean was not sure what to say to that. An angel? Really? And why would Castiel want to rescue him from hell? Why him? After everything that he had done down there…

"You're an…Yea right. Give me a break! Angels aren't real," Dean snorted in annoyance.

"You believe in monsters and demons, but not in angels?" Castiel tilted his head to the side.

"Because…" Dean tried to come up with a good answer, "Because…if angels and God do exist, why do bad things still happen to good people?"

Dean kept a careful eye on the man as he slipped his hand into the back of his shirt, where his gun was. He could not remember the type of bullets it had been loaded with this time, but it was better than nothing.

"Relax Dean. I'm not going to hurt you," Castiel moved closer to Dean, with two of his fingers outstretched.

"Stop," Dean pointed the gun between the man's eyes.

"Your gun isn't going to hurt me. I'm an angel," Castiel said matter-of-factly.

C'mon! Angels? Please! Even though Dean was still skeptical about the angel thing, the man was not a threat. If Castiel had wanted him dead, all he had to do was to sit by and watch Dean bleed out on himself. Judging by the amount of blood saturating his shirt, it would not have taken long.

"What do you want?" Dean sighed and threw his gun onto the dashboard.

"You are needed, Dean Winchester," Castiel replied and touched Dean's forehead with his fingers.

* * *

A bright flash of light followed, before Dean realized that he was not in his car anymore.

"What the…Where the hell are we?"

They were in an abandoned office room, which was partially lit by a small bulb hanging over their head.

"I wanted to talk to you, but it seemed that my true voice proved to be too much. I must apologize that I am to blame for your…uh…unfortunate accident," Castiel said with his head bowed.

"That was you talking?" Dean recalled the awfully piercing noise back in the impala.

Dean could see Castiel better now, in the dimly lit room. The man was wearing a tan trench coat, and beneath it a plain white shirt, black pants, and a blue tie.

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them but I was wrong," Castiel replied.

"So what visage are you in now, huh? Holy tax accountant?" Dean motioned to the man.

"What, this?" Castiel looked down at himself, "this is just a vessel."

"You said you're an angel, but you're possessing some poor dude?" Dean scoffed.

Angels. Demons. Same difference.

"He was a devout man, he prayed for this," Castiel answered impatiently, "Enough of me. I brought you here for a reason. We have work for you, Dean Winchester. Your brother is travelling down a dangerous road. You have to stop him."

"What, Sammy?" Dean frowned.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was he raised from the dead because the angels wanted to use him for their purposes? So what, he was their bitch now?

"No, not Sam. Your other brother, Adam. Stop him, or we will," Castiel warned and he was gone before Dean could blink.

Adam?

"Hey! Hey! Wha…Friggin' angels," Dean threw his hands in the air in frustration.

Sam had filled him in on their half-brother, Adam. That explained a lot. Dean never really found out the reason behind the long 'road trips' that his father would take every autumn. John had never mentioned the boy, and Dean wondered if John was ever going to tell him about Adam. Probably not.

Dean explored the room that Castiel had left him in. Judging by the thick layer of dust over everything there was in the room, nobody had been here for a while. He peered out of the dusty window, but all he could see were foliage. Was the damn angel going to zap him back to civilization or not?

Dean checked his pockets for his phone. To his glee, it was intact and undamaged from the accident.

"Oh son of a bitch," Dean cussed when he could not find a signal. Great! How was he going to find his way back?

Dean paused mid-step when he heard sounds emitting from the other side of the wall. He leaned his ear against the door and listened.

"Where is she?"

"Go to hell."

"No. You go to hell."

A strange choking noise was followed by a few minutes of silence, before someone spoke again. This time, it was the voice of a female.

"We'll find her, Adam."

"We'd better. We must find her, Ruby. No matter what it takes, and I'm going to kill her."


End file.
